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diff --git a/8730-h/8730-h.htm b/8730-h/8730-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3825e57 --- /dev/null +++ b/8730-h/8730-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11247 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Little Bush Maid, by Mary Grant Bruce</title> + +<style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: 90%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> +</head> +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Little Bush Maid, by Mary Grant Bruce</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: A Little Bush Maid</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Mary Grant Bruce</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: August 5, 2003 [eBook #8730]<br /> +[Most recently updated: May 14, 2022]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: An Anonymous Volunteer and David Widger</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LITTLE BUSH MAID ***</div> + +<h1>A LITTLE BUSH MAID</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">By Mary Grant Bruce</h2> + +<hr /> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. BILLABONG </a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. PETS AND PLAYTHINGS </a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. A MENAGERIE RACE </a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. JIM’S IDEA </a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. ANGLERS’ BEND </a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. A BUSH FIRE </a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. WHAT NORAH FOUND </a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. ON A LOG </a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. FISHING </a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. THE LAST DAY </a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. GOOD-BYE </a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. THE WINFIELD MURDER </a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. THE CIRCUS </a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. CAMPING OUT </a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. FOR FRIENDSHIP </a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. FIGHTING DEATH </a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. THE END OF THE STRUGGLE </a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. EVENING </a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<hr /> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"></a> +CHAPTER I.<br/> +BILLABONG</h2> + +<p> +Norah’s home was on a big station in the north of Victoria—so large +that you could almost, in her own phrase, “ride all day and never see any +one you didn’t want to see”; which was a great advantage in +Norah’s eyes. Not that Billabong Station ever seemed to the little girl a +place that you needed to praise in any way. It occupied so very modest a +position as the loveliest part of the world! +</p> + +<p> +The homestead was built on a gentle rise that sloped gradually away on every +side; in front to the wide plain, dotted with huge gum trees and great grey box +groves, and at the back, after you had passed through the well-kept vegetable +garden and orchard, to a long lagoon, bordered with trees and fringed with tall +bulrushes and waving reeds. +</p> + +<p> +The house itself was old and quaint and rambling, part of the old wattle and +dab walls yet remaining in some of the outhouses, as well as the grey shingle +roof. There was a more modern part, for the house had been added to from time +to time by different owners, though no additions had been made since +Norah’s father brought home his young wife, fifteen years before this +story opens. Then he had built a large new wing with wide and lofty rooms, and +round all had put a very broad, tiled verandah. The creepers had had time to +twine round the massive posts in those fifteen years, and some even lay in +great masses on the verandah roof; tecoma, pink and salmon-coloured; purple +bougainvillea, and the snowy mandevillea clusters. Hard-headed people said this +was not good for the building—but Norah’s mother had planted them, +and because she had loved them they were never touched. +</p> + +<p> +There was a huge front garden, not at all a proper kind of garden, but a great +stretch of smooth buffalo grass, dotted with all kinds of trees, amongst which +flower beds cropped up in most unexpected and unlikely places, just as if some +giant had flung them out on the grass like a handful of pebbles that scattered +as they flew. They were always trim and tidy, and the gardener, Hogg, was +terribly strict, and woe betide the author of any small footmarks that he found +on one of the freshly raked surfaces. Nothing annoyed him more than the odd +bulbs that used to come up in the midst of his precious buffalo grass; +impertinent crocuses and daffodils and hyacinths, that certainly had no right +there. “Blest if I know how they ever gets there!” Hogg would say, +scratching his head. Whereat Norah was wont to retire behind a pyramid tree for +purposes of mirth. +</p> + +<p> +Hogg’s sworn foe was Lee Wing, the Chinese gardener, who reigned supreme +in the orchard and the kingdom of vegetables—not quite the same thing as +the vegetable kingdom, by the way! Lee Wing was very fat, his broad, yellow +face generally wearing a cheerful grin—unless he happened to catch sight +of Hogg. His long pigtail was always concealed under his flapping straw hat. +Once Jim, who was Norah’s big brother, had found him asleep in his hut +with the pigtail drooping over the edge of the bunk. Jim thought the +opportunity too good to lose and, with such deftness that the Celestial never +stirred, he tied the end of the pigtail to the back of a chair—with +rather startling results when Lee Wing awoke with a sudden sense of being late, +and made a spring from the bunk. The chair of course followed him, and the loud +yell of fear and pain raised by the victim brought half the homestead to the +scene of the catastrophe. Jim was the only one who did not wait for +developments. He found business at the lagoon. +</p> + +<p> +The queerest part of it was that Lee Wing firmly believed Hogg to be the author +of his woe. Nothing moved him from this view, not even when Jim, finding how +matters stood, owned up like a man. “You allee same goo’ +boy,” said the pigtailed one, proffering him a succulent raw turnip. +“Me know. You tellee fine large crammee. Hogg, he tellee crammee, too. So +dly up!” And Jim, finding expostulation useless, “dried up” +accordingly and ate the turnip, which was better than the leek. +</p> + +<p> +To the right of the homestead at Billabong a clump of box trees sheltered the +stables that were the unspoken pride of Mr. Linton’s heart. +</p> + +<p> +Before his time the stables had been a conglomerate mass, bark-roofed, +slab-sided, falling to decay; added to as each successive owner had thought +fit, with a final mixture of old and new that was neither convenient nor +beautiful. Mr. Linton had apologised to his horses during his first week of +occupancy and, in the second, turning them out to grass with less apology, had +pulled down the rickety old sheds, replacing them with a compact and handsome +building of red brick, with room for half a dozen buggies, men’s +quarters, harness and feed rooms, many loose boxes and a loft where a ball +could have been held—and where, indeed, many a one was held, when all the +young farmers and stockmen and shearers from far and near brought each his lass +and tripped it from early night to early dawn, to the strains of old Andy +Ferguson’s fiddle and young Dave Boone’s concertina. Norah had been +allowed to look on at one or two of these gatherings. She thought them the +height of human bliss, and was only sorry that sheer inability to dance +prevented her from “taking the floor” with Mick Shanahan, the horse +breaker, who had paid her the compliment of asking her first. It was a great +compliment, too, Norah felt, seeing what a man of agility and splendid +accomplishments was Mick—and that she was only nine at the time. +</p> + +<p> +There was one loose box which was Norah’s very own property, and without +her permission no horse was ever put in it except its rightful +occupant—Bobs, whose name was proudly displayed over the door in +Jim’s best carving. +</p> + +<p> +Bobs had always belonged to Norah, He had been given to her as a foal, when +Norah used to ride a round little black sheltie, as easy to fall off as to +mount. He was a beauty even then, Norah thought; and her father had looked +approvingly at the long-legged baby, with his fine, well-bred head. “You +will have something worth riding when that fellow is fit to break in, my +girlie,” he had said, and his prophecy had been amply fulfilled. Mick +Shanahan said he’d never put a leg over a finer pony. Norah knew there +never had been a finer anywhere. He was a big pony, very dark bay in colour, +and “as handsome as paint,” and with the kindest disposition; full +of life and “go,” but without the smallest particle of vice. It was +an even question which loved the other best, Bobs or Norah. No one ever rode +him except his little mistress. The pair were hard to beat—so the men +said. +</p> + +<p> +To Norah the stables were the heart of Billabong. The house was all very +well—of course she loved it; and she loved her own little room, with its +red carpet and dainty white furniture, and the two long windows that looked out +over the green plain. That was all right; so were the garden and the big +orchard, especially in summer time! The only part that was not “all +right” was the drawing-room—an apartment of gloomy, seldom-used +splendour that Norah hated with her whole heart. +</p> + +<p> +But the stables were an abiding refuge. She was never dull there. Apart from +the never-failing welcome in Bobs’ loose box, there was the dim, fragrant +loft, where the sunbeams only managed to send dusty rays of light across the +gloom. Here Norah used to lie on the sweet hay and think tremendous thoughts; +here also she laid deep plans for catching rats—and caught scores in +traps of her own devising. Norah hated rats, but nothing could induce her to +wage war against the mice. “Poor little chaps!” she said; +“they’re so little—and—and soft!” And she was +quite saddened if by chance she found a stray mouse in any of her +shrewdly-designed traps for the benefit of the larger game which infested the +stables and had even the hardihood to annoy Bobs! +</p> + +<p> +Norah had never known her mother. She was only a tiny baby when that gay little +mother died—a sudden, terrible blow, that changed her father in a night +from a young man to an old one. It was nearly twelve years ago, now, but no one +ever dared to speak to David Linton of his wife. Sometimes Norah used to ask +Jim about mother—for Jim was fifteen, and could remember just a little; +but his memories were so vague and misty that his information was +unsatisfactory. And, after all, Norah did not trouble much. She had always been +so happy that she could not imagine that to have had a mother would have made +any particular difference to her happiness. You see, she did not know. +</p> + +<p> +She had grown just as the bush wild flowers grow—hardy, unchecked, almost +untended; for, though old nurse had always been there, her nurseling had gone +her own way from the time she could toddle. She was everybody’s pet and +plaything; the only being who had power to make her stern, silent father +smile—almost the only one who ever saw the softer side of his character. +He was fond and proud of Jim—glad that the boy was growing up straight +and strong and manly, able to make his way in the world. But Norah was his +heart’s desire. +</p> + +<p> +Of course she was spoilt—if spoiling consists in rarely checking an +impulse. All her life Norah had done pretty well whatever she +wanted—which meant that she had lived out of doors, followed in +Jim’s footsteps wherever practicable (and in a good many ways most people +would have thought distinctly impracticable), and spent about two-thirds of her +waking time on horseback. But the spoiling was not of a very harmful kind. Her +chosen pursuits brought her under the unspoken discipline of the work of the +station, wherein ordinary instinct taught her to do as others did, and conform +to their ways. She had all the dread of being thought “silly” that +marks the girl who imitates boyish ways. Jim’s rare growl, “Have a +little sense!” went farther home than a whole volume of admonitions of a +more ordinarily genuine feminine type. +</p> + +<p> +She had no little girl friends, for none was nearer than the nearest +township—Cunjee, seventeen miles away. Moreover, little girls bored Norah +frightfully. They seemed a species quite distinct from herself. They prattled +of dolls; they loved to skip, to dress up and “play ladies”; and +when Norah spoke of the superior joys of cutting out cattle or coursing hares +over the Long Plain, they stared at her with blank lack of understanding. With +boys she got on much better. Jim and she were tremendous chums, and she had +moped sadly when he went to Melbourne to school. Holidays then became the +shining events of the year, and the boys whom Jim brought home with him, at +first prone to look down on the small girl with lofty condescension, generally +ended by voting her “no end of a jolly kid,” and according her the +respect due to a person who could teach them more of bush life than they had +dreamed of. +</p> + +<p> +But Norah’s principal mate was her father. Day after day they were +together, riding over the run, working the cattle, walking through the thick +scrub of the backwater, driving young, half-broken horses in the high dog-cart +to Cunjee—they were rarely apart. David Linton seldom made a plan that +did not naturally include Norah. She was a wise little companion, too; ready +enough to chatter like a magpie if her father were in the mood, but quick to +note if he were not, and then quite content to be silently beside him, perhaps +for hours. They understood each other perfectly. Norah never could make out the +people who pitied her for having no friends of her own age. How could she +possibly be bothered with children, she reflected, when she had Daddy? +</p> + +<p> +As for Norah’s education, that was of the kind best defined as a minus +quantity. +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t have her bothered with books too early,” Mr. Linton +had said when nurse hinted, on Norah’s eight birthday, that it was time +she began the rudiments of learning. “Time enough yet—we +don’t want to make a bookworm of her!” +</p> + +<p> +Whereat nurse smiled demurely, knowing that that was the last thing to be +afraid of in connexion with her child. But she worried in her responsible old +soul all the same; and when a wet day or the occasional absence of Mr. Linton +left Norah without occupation, she induced her to begin a few elementary +lessons. The child was quick enough, and soon learned to read fairly well and +to write laboriously; but there nurse’s teaching from books ended. +</p> + +<p> +Of other and practical teaching, however, she had a greater store. Mr. Linton +had a strong leaning towards the old-fashioned virtues, and it was at a word +from him that Norah had gone to the kitchen and asked Mrs. Brown to teach her +to cook. Mrs. Brown—fat, good-natured and adoring—was all +acquiescence, and by the time Norah was eleven she knew more of cooking and +general housekeeping than many girls grown up and fancying themselves ready to +undertake houses of their own. Moreover, she could sew rather well, though she +frankly detested the accomplishment. The one form of work she cared for was +knitting, and it was her boast that her father wore only the socks she +manufactured for him. +</p> + +<p> +Norah’s one gentle passion was music. Never taught, she inherited from +her mother a natural instinct and an absolutely true ear, and before she was +seven she could strum on the old piano in a way very satisfying to herself and +awe-inspiring to the admiring nurse. Her talent increased yearly, and at ten +she could play anything she heard—from ear, for she had never been taught +a note of music. It was, indeed, her growing capabilities in this respect that +forced upon her father the need for proper tuition for the child. However, a +stopgap was found in the person of the book-keeper, a young Englishman, who +knew more of music than accounts. He readily undertook Norah’s +instruction, and the lessons bore moderately good effect—the moderation +being due to a not unnatural disinclination on the pupil’s part to walk +where she had been accustomed to run, and to a fixed loathing to practice. As +the latter necessary, if uninteresting, pursuit was left entirely to her own +discretion—for no one ever dreamed of ordering Norah to the +piano—it is small wonder if it suffered beside the superior attractions +of riding Bobs, rat trapping, “shinning up” trees, fishing in the +lagoon and generally disporting herself as a maiden may whom conventional +restrictions have never trammelled. +</p> + +<p> +It follows that the music lessons, twice a week, were times of woe for Mr. +Groom, the teacher. He was an earnest young man, with a sincere desire for his +pupil’s improvement, and it was certainly disheartening to find on Friday +that the words of Tuesday had apparently gone in at one ear and out at the +other simultaneously. Sometimes he would remonstrate. +</p> + +<p> +“You haven’t got on with that piece a bit!” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the good?” the pupil would remark, twisting round on +the music stool; “I can play nearly all of it from ear!” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s not the +same”—severely—“that’s only frivolling. I’m +not here to teach you to strum.” +</p> + +<p> +“No” Norah would agree abstractedly. “Mr. Groom, you know +that poley bullock down in the far end paddock—” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I don’t,” severely. “This is a music lesson, +Norah; you’re not after cattle now!” +</p> + +<p> +“Wish I were!” sighed the pupil. “Well, will you come out +with the dogs this afternoon?” +</p> + +<p> +“Can’t; I’m wanted in the office. Now, Norah—” +</p> + +<p> +“But if I asked father to spare you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I’d like to right enough.” Mr. Groom was young, and the +temptress, if younger, was skilled in wiles. +</p> + +<p> +“But your father—” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I can manage Dad. I’ll go and see him now.” She would be +at the door before her teacher perceived that his opportunity was vanishing. +</p> + +<p> +“Norah, come back! If I’m to go out, you must play this +first—and get it right.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Groom could be firm on occasions. “Come along, you little +shirker!” and Norah would unwillingly return to the music stool, and +worry laboriously though a page of the hated Czerny. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"></a> +CHAPTER II.<br/> +PETS AND PLAYTHINGS</h2> + +<p> +After her father, Norah’s chief companions were her pets. +</p> + +<p> +These were a numerous and varied band, and required no small amount of +attention. Bobs, of course, came first—no other animal could possibly +approach him in favour. But after Bobs came a long procession, beginning with +Tait, the collie, and ending with the last brood of fluffy Orpington chicks, or +perhaps the newest thing in disabled birds, picked up, fluttering and helpless, +in the yard or orchard. There was room in Norah’s heart for them all. +</p> + +<p> +Tait was a beauty—a rough-haired collie, with a splendid head, and big, +faithful brown eyes, that spoke more eloquently than many persons’ +tongues. He was, like most of the breed, ready to be friends with any one; but +his little mistress was dearest of all, and he worshipped her with abject +devotion. Norah never went anywhere without him; Tait saw to that. He seemed +always on the watch for her coming, and she was never more than a few yards +from the house before the big dog was silently brushing the grass by her side. +His greatest joy was to follow her on long rides into the bush, putting up an +occasional hare and scurrying after it in the futile way of collies, barking at +the swallows overhead, and keeping pace with Bobs’ long, easy canter. +</p> + +<p> +Puck used to come on these excursions too. He was the only being for whom it +was suspected that Tait felt a mild dislike—an impudent Irish terrier, +full of fun and mischief, yet with a somewhat unfriendly and suspicious +temperament that made him, perhaps, a better guardian for Norah than the +benevolently disposed Tait. Puck had a nasty, inquiring mind—an +unpleasant way of sniffing round the legs of tramps that generally induced +those gentry to find the top rail of a fence a more calm and more desirable +spot than the level of the ground. Indian hawkers feared him and hated him in +equal measure. He could bite, and occasionally did bite, his victims being +always selected with judgment and discretion, generally vagrants emboldened to +insolence by seeing no men about the kitchen when all hands were out mustering +or busy on the run. When Puck bit, it was with no uncertain tooth. He was +suspected of a desire to taste the blood of every one who went near Norah, +though his cannibalistic propensities were curbed by stern discipline. +</p> + +<p> +Only once had he had anything like a free hand—or a free tooth. +</p> + +<p> +Norah was out riding, a good way from the homestead, when a particularly +unpleasant-looking fellow accosted her, and asked for money. Norah stared. +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t got any,” she said. “Anyhow, father +doesn’t let us give away money to travellers—only tucker.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, doesn’t he?” the fellow said unpleasantly. “Well, +I want money, not grub.” He laid a compelling hand on Bobs’ bridle +as Norah tried to pass him. “Come,” he said—“that +bracelet’ll do!” +</p> + +<p> +It was a pretty little gold watch set in a leather bangle—father’s +birthday present, only a few weeks old. Norah simply laughed—she scarcely +comprehended so amazing a thing as that this man should really intend to rob +her. +</p> + +<p> +“Get out of my way,” she said—“you can’t have +that!” +</p> + +<p> +“Can’t I!” He caught her wrist. “Give it quietly now, +or I’ll—” +</p> + +<p> +The sentence was not completed. A yellow streak hurled itself though the air, +as Puck, who had been investigating a tussock for lizards, awoke to the +situation. Something like a vice gripped the swagman by the leg, and he dropped +Norah’s wrist and bridle and roared like any bull. The +“something” hung on fiercely, silently, and the victim hopped and +raved and begged for mercy. +</p> + +<p> +Norah had ridden a little way on. She called softly to Puck. +</p> + +<p> +“Here, boy!” +</p> + +<p> +Puck did not relinquish his grip. He looked pleadingly at his little mistress +across the swagman’s trouser-leg. Norah struck her saddle sharply with +her whip. +</p> + +<p> +“Here, sir!—drop it!” +</p> + +<p> +Puck dropped it reluctantly, and came across to Bobs, his head hanging. The +swagman sat down on the ground and nursed his leg. +</p> + +<p> +“That served you right,” Norah said, with judicial severity. +“You hadn’t any business to grab my watch. Now, if you’ll go +up to the house they’ll give you some tucker and a rag for your +leg!” +</p> + +<p> +She rode off, whistling to Puck. The swagman gaped and muttered various +remarks. He did not call at the house. +</p> + +<p> +Norah was supposed to manage the fowls, but her management was almost entirely +ornamental, and it is to be feared that the poultry yard would have fared but +poorly had it depended upon her alone. All the fowls were hers. She said so, +and no one contradicted her. Still, whenever one was wanted for the table, it +was ruthlessly slain. And it was black Billy who fed them night and morning, +and Mrs. Brown who gathered the eggs, and saw that the houses were safely shut +against the foxes every evening. Norah’s chief part in the management lay +in looking after the setting hens. At first she firmly checked the broody +instincts by shutting them callously under boxes despite pecks and loud +protests. Later, when their mood refused to change, she loved to prepare them +soft nests in boxes, and to imprison them there until they took kindly to their +seclusion. Then it was hard work to wait three weeks until the first fluffy +heads peeped out from the angry mother’s wing, after which Norah was a +blissfully adoring caretaker until the downy balls began to get ragged, as the +first wing and tail feathers showed. Then the chicks became uninteresting, and +were handed over to Black Billy. +</p> + +<p> +Besides her own pets there were Jim’s. +</p> + +<p> +“Mind, they’re in your care,” Jim had said sternly, on the +evening before his departure for school. They were making a tour of the +place—Jim outwardly very cheerful and unconcerned; Norah plunged in woe. +She did not attempt to conceal it. She had taken Jim’s arm, and it was +sufficient proof of his state of mind that he did not shake it off. Indeed, the +indications were that he was glad of the loving little hand tucked into the +bend of his arm. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Jim; I’ll look after them.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t want you to bother feeding them yourself,” Jim said +magnanimously; “that ’ud be rather too much of a contract for a +kid, wouldn’t it? Only keep an eye on ’em, and round up Billy if he +doesn’t do his work. He’s a terror if he shirks, and unless you +watch him like a cat he’ll never change the water in the tins every +morning. Lots of times I’ve had to do it myself!” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d do it myself sooner’n let them go without, Jim, +dear,” said the small voice, with a suspicion of a choke. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you do it,” said Jim; “slang Billy. What’s +he here for, I’d like to know! I only want you to go round ’em +every day, and see that they’re all right.” +</p> + +<p> +So daily Norah used to make her pilgrimage round Jim’s pets. There were +the guinea pigs—a rapidly increasing band, in an enclosure specially +built for them by Jim—a light frame, netted carefully everywhere, and so +constructed that it could be moved from place to place, giving them a fresh +grass run continually. Then there were two young wallabies and a little brush +kangaroo, which lived in a little paddock all their own, and were as tame as +kittens. Norah loved this trio especially, and always had a game with them on +her daily visit. There was a shy gentleman which Norah called a turloise, +because she never could remember if he were a turtle or a tortoise. He lived in +a small enclosure, with a tiny water hole, and his disposition was extremely +retiring. In private Norah did not feel drawn to this member of her charge, but +she paid him double attention, from an inward feeling of guilt, and because Jim +set a high value upon him. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s such a wise old chap,” Jim would say; “nobody +knows what he’s thinking of!” +</p> + +<p> +In her heart of hearts Norah did not believe that mattered very much. +</p> + +<p> +But when the stables had been visited and Bobs and Sirdar (Jim’s +neglected pony) interviewed; when Tait and Puck had had their breakfast bones; +when wallabies and kangaroo had been inspected (with a critical eye to their +water tins), and the turtle had impassively received a praiseworthy attempt to +draw him out; when the chicks had all been fed, and the guinea pigs (unlike the +leopard) had changed their spot for the day—there still remained the +birds. +</p> + +<p> +The birds were a colony in themselves. There was a big aviary, large enough for +little trees and big shrubs to grow in, where a happy family lived whose +members included several kinds of honey-eaters, Queensland finches, blackbirds +and a dozen other tiny shy things which flitted quickly from bush to bush all +day. They knew Norah and, when she entered their home, would flutter down and +perch on her head and shoulders, and look inquisitively for the flowers she +always brought them. Sometimes Norah would wear some artificial flowers, by way +of a joke. It was funny to see the little honey-eaters thrusting in their long +beaks again and again in search of the sweet drops they had learned to expect +in flowers, and funnier still to watch the air of disgust with which they would +give up the attempt. +</p> + +<p> +There were doves everywhere—not in cages, for they never tried to escape. +Their soft “coo” murmured drowsily all around. There were pigeons, +too, in a most elaborate pigeon cote—another effort of Jim’s +carpentering skill. These were as tame as the smaller birds, and on +Norah’s appearance would swoop down upon her in a cloud. They had done so +once when she was mounted on Bobs, to the pony’s very great alarm and +disgust. He took to his heels promptly. “I don’t think he stopped +for two miles!” Norah said. Since then, however, Bobs had grown used to +the pigeons fluttering and circling round him. It was a pretty sight to watch +them all together, child and pony half hidden beneath their load of birds. +</p> + +<p> +The canaries had a cage to themselves—a very smart one, with every device +for making canary life endurable in captivity. Certainly Norah’s birds +seemed happy enough, and the sweet songs of the canaries were delightful. I +think they were Norah’s favourites amongst her feathered flock. +</p> + +<p> +Finally there were two talkative members—Fudge the parrot, and old +Caesar, a very fine white cockatoo. Fudge had been caught young, and his +education had been of a liberal order. An apt pupil, he had picked up various +items of knowledge, and had blended them into a whole that was scarcely +harmonious. Bits of slang learned from Jim and the stockmen were mingled with +fragments of hymns warbled by Mrs. Brown and sharp curt orders delivered to +dogs. A French swag-man, who had hurt his foot and been obliged to camp for a +few days at the homestead, supplied Fudge with several Parisian remarks that +were very effective. Every member of the household had tried to teach him to +whistle some special tune. Unfortunately, the lessons had been delivered at the +same time, and the result was the most amazing jumble of melody, which Fudge +delivered with an air of deepest satisfaction. As Jim said, “You never +know if he’s whistling ‘God Save the King,’ ‘Pop Goes +the Weasel,’ or ‘The Wearin’ o’ the Green,’ but +it doesn’t make any difference to Fudge’s enjoyment!” +</p> + +<p> +Caesar was a giant among cockatoos, and had a full sense of his own importance. +</p> + +<p> +He had been shot when very young, some stray pellets having found their way +into his wing. Norah had found him fluttering helplessly along the ground, and +had picked him up, sustaining a severe peck in doing so. It was, however, the +first and last peck he ever gave Norah. From that moment he seemed to recognize +her as a friend, and to adopt her as an intimate—marks of esteem he +accorded to very few others. Norah had handed him to Jim on arriving at the +house, a change which the bird resented by a savage attack on Jim’s +thumb. Jim was no hero—at the age of eleven, he dropped the cockatoo like +a hot coal. “Great Caesar!” he exclaimed, sucking his thumb, and +Caesar he was christened in that moment. +</p> + +<p> +After his recovery, which was a long and tedious process, Caesar showed no +inclination to leave the homestead. He used to strut about the back yard, and +frequent the kitchen door, very much after the fashion of a house-dog. He was, +indeed, as valuable as a watch-dog, for the appearance of any stranger was the +signal for a volley of shrieks and chatter, sufficient to alarm any household. +However, Caesar’s liberty had to be restricted, for he became somewhat of +a menace to all he did not choose to care for, and his attacks on the ankles +were no joking matter. +</p> + +<p> +To the dogs he was a constant terror. He hated all alike, and would “go +for” big Tait as readily as for cheerful little Puck, and not a dog on +the place would face him. So at last a stand and a chain were bought for +Caesar, and on his perch he lived in solitary splendour, while his enemies took +good care to keep beyond his reach. Norah he always loved, and those whom he +had managed to bite—their number was large—used to experience +thrills on seeing the little girl hold him close to her face while he rubbed +his beak up and down her cheek. He tolerated black Billy, who fed him, and was +respectful to Mr. Linton; but he worshipped Mrs. Brown, the cook, and her +appearance at the kitchen door, which he could see from his stand, caused an +instant outbreak of cheers and chatter, varied by touching appeals to +“scratch Cocky.” His chief foe was Mrs. Brown’s big yellow +cat, who not only dared to share the adored one’s affections, but was +openly aggressive at times, and loved to steal the cockatoo’s food. +</p> + +<p> +Caesar, on his perch, apparently wrapped in dreamless slumber, would in reality +be watching the stealthy movements of Tim, the cat, who would come scouting +through the grass towards the tin of food. Just out of reach, Tim would lie +down and feign sleep as deep as Caesar’s, though every muscle in his body +was tense with readiness for the sudden spring. So they would remain, perhaps +many minutes. Tim’s patience never gave out. Sometimes Caesar’s +would, and he would open his eyes and flap round on his perch, shouting much +bad bird language at the retreating Tim. But more often both remained +motionless until the cat sprang suddenly at the food tin. More often than not +he was too quick for Caesar, and would drag the tin beyond reach of the chain +before the bird could defend it, in which case the wrath of the defeated was +awful to behold. But sometimes Caesar managed to anticipate the leap, and Tim +did not readily forget those distressful moments when the cockatoo had him by +the fur with beak and claw. He would escape, showing several patches where his +coat had been torn, and remained in a state of dejection for two or three days, +during which battles were discontinued. It took Caesar almost as long to +recover from the wild state of triumph into which his rare victories threw him. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"></a> +CHAPTER III.<br/> +A MENAGERIE RACE</h2> + +<p> +The first time that Jim returned from school was for the Easter holidays. +</p> + +<p> +He brought a couple of mates with him—boys from New South Wales and +Queensland, Harry Trevor and Walter Meadows. Harry was a little older than +Jim—a short, thick-set lad, very fair and solemn, with expressionless +grey eyes, looking out beneath a shock of flaxen hair. Those who knew him not +said that he was stupid. Those who knew him said that you couldn’t tell +old Harry much that he didn’t know. Those who knew him very well said +that you could depend on Trevor to his last gasp. Jim loved him—and there +were few people Jim loved. +</p> + +<p> +Walter—or Wally—Meadows was a different type; long and thin for +fourteen, burnt to almost Kaffir darkness; a wag of a boy, with merry brown +eyes, and a temperament unable to be depressed for more than five minutes at a +time. He was always in scrapes at school, but a great favourite with masters +and boys notwithstanding; and he straightway laid his boyish heart down at +Norah’s feet, and was her slave from the first day they met. +</p> + +<p> +Norah liked them both. She had been desperately afraid that they would try to +take Jim away from her, and was much relieved to find that they welcomed her +cheerfully into their plans. They were good riders, and the four had splendid +gallops over the plains after hares. Also they admired Bobs fervently, and that +was always a passport to Norah’s heart. +</p> + +<p> +It was on the third day of their visit, and they were making the morning round +of the pets, when a brilliant idea came to Wally. +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s have a menagerie race!” he cried suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s that?” Norah asked blankly. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, you each drive an animal,” explained Wally, the words +tumbling over one another in his haste. “Say you drive the kangaroo, +’n me the wallabies, ’n Jim the Orpington rooster, ’n +we’ll give old Harry the tortoise—turloise, I beg pardon!” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks,” said Harry dryly. “The tortoise scored once, you +know, young Wally!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, old man, you take him,” Wally said kindly. +“Wouldn’t stand in your way for a moment. We can use harness, +can’t we?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t know,” Jim said. “I never studied the rules of +menagerie racing. Use bridles, anyhow. It’s a good idea, I think. +Let’s see how many starters we can muster.” +</p> + +<p> +They cruised round. Dogs were barred as being too intelligent—horses +were, of course, out of the question. Finally they fixed on the possible +candidates. They were the kangaroo, the wallabies, a big black Orpington +“rooster,” Fudge the parrot, Caesar the cockatoo, Mrs. +Brown’s big yellow cat, Tim, and the “turloise.” +</p> + +<p> +“Eight,” said Harry laconically. The starters were all mustered in +one enclosure, and were on the worst of terms. “We’ll need more +jockeys—if you call ’em jockeys.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, there’s black Billy,” Jim said; “he’s +available, and he’ll drive whichever he’s told, and that’s a +comfort. That’s five. And we’ll rouse out old Lee Wing, and Hogg, +that’s a ripping idea, ’cause they hate each other so. Seven. +Who’s eight? Oh, I know! We’ll get Mrs. Brown.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Brown was accordingly bearded in her den and, protesting vigorously that +she had no mind for racing, haled forth into the open. She was a huge woman, as +good-natured as she was fat, which said a good deal. In her print dress, with +enormous white apron and flapping sun bonnet, she looked as unlikely a +“jockey” as could be imagined. +</p> + +<p> +Lee Wing, discovered in the onion bed, was presently brought to the scratch, +despite his protests. He said he “couldn’t lun,” but was told +that in all probability no running would be required of him. He also said +“no can dlive” many times, and further remarked, “Allee same +gleat bosh.” When he saw his arch enemy Hogg among the competitors his +resentment was keen, and Wally was told off to restrain him from flight. +Wally’s own idea was to tie him up by the pigtail, but this Jim was +prudent enough to forbid. +</p> + +<p> +Hogg was, as Jim put it, rooting amongst the roses, and grunted freely on his +way to the post. He could never refuse Norah anything, but this proceeding was +much beneath his dignity, and the sight of Lee Wing did not tend to improve his +view of the matter. He stood aloof, with a cold, proud smile, like a hero of +melodrama. +</p> + +<p> +Black Billy was, of course, in the stables, and came with alacrity. He had not +much English and that little was broken, but he worshipped the Linton +children—Jim especially, and would obey him with the unquestioning +obedience of a dog. +</p> + +<p> +“All here?” asked Jim, looking round. “Five, six, +eight—that’s all serene. Now who’s going to drive who?” +</p> + +<p> +Opinions on that point were mixed. Every one wanted the kangaroo, and at last a +general vote gave him to Norah. Wally chose one Wallaby. He said it was only +natural, and made a further remark about the feelings of the others when +“Wally and his wallaby should wallow by them” that was happily +quenched by Harry, who adopted the simple plan of sitting on the orator. Harry +secured the second wallaby, and black Billy was given the Orpington rooster as +his steed. Mrs. Brown from the first applied for the tortoise. She said it +meant less exertion, and she preferred to be slow and sure, without any risk of +over-work. Hogg chose the yellow cat, Tim, and Lee Wing was given Caesar, the +cockatoo. +</p> + +<p> +“Leaving old Fudge for me,” Jim said ruefully. “What sort of +a chance do you think I’ve got? Never mind, I’m used to being +suppressed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good for you,” observed Harry. “Now, how about +harness?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, we’ll leave that to individual taste,” Jim said. +“Here’s a ball of string, and there are plenty of light straps. +Mrs. Brown—you’re the leading lady. How shall I harness your +prancing steed for you?” +</p> + +<p> +“You will have your joke, Master Jim,” retorted Mrs. Brown, +bridling and beaming. “Now, I don’t think I’ll harness my +poor beastie at all. Give me a couple of sticks to keep his head the right way +and to poke him gently, and we’ll beat you all yet!” +</p> + +<p> +Norah and the two boys fixed up fearful and wonderful harness for their +nominations—collars of straps, and long string headpieces and reins. The +animals objected strongly to being harnessed, and the process was most +entertaining. Mrs. Brown was particularly appreciative, and at length in a +paroxysm of mirth narrowly escaped sitting down on the tortoise. +</p> + +<p> +Black Billy’s harness was not extensive. He tied a string round the black +Orpington’s leg, and retired to the stable for a few minutes, returning +with a bulging pocket, the contents of which he did not communicate. Hogg did +not attempt to bit and bridle the yellow cat, which was much annoyed at the +whole proceeding. Instead he fixed up a collar and traces of string, and chose +a long cane, more, he said, for purposes of defence than for anything else. Lee +Wing and Jim harnessed their steeds in the same way—with a long string +tied to each leg. +</p> + +<p> +“All ready?” Jim queried. “Toe the line!” +</p> + +<p> +The course was across a small paddock near the house—a distance of about +thirty yards—and the competitors were ranged up with no little +difficulty. Luckily, the line was a wide one, admitting of considerable space +between each starter, or the send-off might have been inextricably confused. +However, they were all arranged at last, and Jim, in a stentorian voice, gave +the word to “Go.” +</p> + +<p> +As the signal was given, the drivers urged on their steeds according to their +judgment, and with magnificent results. +</p> + +<p> +First to get off the line were the wallabies and the kangaroo. They fled, each +his several way, and after them went their drivers, in great haste. The +kangaroo had all the best of the start. So remarkable was his bound that he +twitched his reins quite out of Norah’s hands, and made for the fence of +the paddock. It was an open one, which let him through easily. The wallabies, +seeing his shining success, followed his course, and midway managed to entangle +their reins, at which Wally and Harry were wildly hauling. Confusion became +disorder, and the wallabies at length reduced themselves to a tangle, out of +which they had to be assisted by means of Harry’s pocket knife. +</p> + +<p> +Jim had no luck. The parrot went off well, but very soon seemed to regret his +rashness and, despite all Jim’s endeavours, returned with solemnity to +the start, where he paused and talked fluently in the mixed language that was +all his own. In desperation Jim tried to pull him along, but Fudge simply +walked round and round him, until he had exhausted his driver’s patience, +and was “turned out.” +</p> + +<p> +The most spirited of the competitors were decidedly the cockatoo and Tim. They +were panting for each other’s blood from the start, and before they had +been urged over a quarter of the way they found an opportunity of warfare, and +seized it simultaneously. Then the air grew murky with sound—cockatoo +shrieks, mingled with cat calls and fluent Chinese, cutting across Hogg’s +good, broad Scots. Naturally, the strings of the harness became fatally twisted +immediately, and soon the combatants were bound together with a firmness which +not all the efforts of their drivers could undo. A sudden movement of the pair +made Lee Wing spring back hastily, whereupon he tripped and stumbled violently +against Hogg. +</p> + +<p> +Hogg’s temper was at vanishing point, and this was the last straw. +</p> + +<p> +“Ye pig-tailed image!” he exclaimed furiously. Drawing back, he +aimed a blow at Lee Wing, which would have effectively put that gentle +Mongolian out of the race had he not dodged quickly. He shouted something in +his own language, which was evidently of no complimentary nature, and hurled +himself like a yellow tornado upon the angry Scotsman. They struck out at each +other with all possible ill-will, but their science was much impeded by the +fact that the cat and cockatoo were fighting fiercely amongst their legs. +Finally Lee Wing tripped over Tim, and sat down abruptly, receiving as he did +so an impassioned peck from Caesar which elicited from him a loud yell of +anguish. Hogg, attempting to follow up his advantage, was checked suddenly by +Jim, who left his parrot to its own devices, and arrived on the scene at full +gallop. +</p> + +<p> +“You are a blessed pair of duffers!” said Jim wrathfully. +“Look here, if father catches you fighting there’ll be the most +awful row—and I’ll be in it too, what’s worse. Clear out, for +goodness’ sake, before he comes along, and don’t get in each +others’ road again!” and each nursing bitterness in his heart, the +rival gardeners returned to their respective beds of roses and onions. +</p> + +<p> +Left to their own devices, the yellow cat and the cockatoo departed also, in a +turmoil of wrath, with fur and feathers flying in equal proportions. Eventually +Tim found discretion the better part of valour and scurried away to the safe +shelter of the kitchen, pursued by Caesar with loud shrieks of defiance and +victory—sounds of joyful triumph which lasted long after he had regained +his perch and been securely fastened by the leg with his hated chain. +</p> + +<p> +Black Billy, meanwhile, had paid strict attention to business. The vagaries of +wallabies and kangaroo, of cat and parrot and cockatoo, had no attraction for +the dusky leader of the big black Orpington rooster. +</p> + +<p> +The Orpington—Jonah, Norah called him—was not inclined to race. He +had tugged furiously at his leg rope, with much outcry and indignation, until +Billy, finding himself alone, owing to the eccentric behaviour of the other +starters, had resorted to different tactics by no means devoid of native +cunning. Slackening the line, he suddenly produced from his pocket a few grains +of wheat, and spread them temptingly before Jonah. +</p> + +<p> +Now Jonah was a tame bird. He was accustomed to being handled, and had only +been indignant at the disgrace of bonds. This new departure was something he +understood; so he gobbled up the wheat with alacrity and looked up inquiringly +for more. +</p> + +<p> +“Right oh!” said Bffly, retiring a few steps down the track and +bringing out another grain. Jonah sprang after it, and then was dazzled with +the view of two lying yet a few yards farther off. So, feeding and coaxing, +black Billy worked his unsuspecting steed across the little paddock. +</p> + +<p> +No one was near when he reached the winning post, to which he promptly tied +Jonah, and, his purpose being accomplished, and no need of further bribery +being necessary, sat down beside him and meditatively began to chew the +remainder of his wheat. Jonah looked indignant, and poked round after more +grains, an attention which Billy met with jeers and continued heartless +mastication, until the Orpington gave up the quest in disgust, and retired to +the limit of his tether. Billy sat quietly, with steadfast glittering eyes +twinkling in his dusky face. +</p> + +<p> +“Hallo!” It was Jim’s voice. “Where are all the rest? +D’you mean to say you’re the only one to get here?” +</p> + +<p> +Billy grinned silently. +</p> + +<p> +Sounds of mirth floated over the grass, and Norah, Harry and Wally raced up. +</p> + +<p> +“Where are your mokes?” queried Jim. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“The good knights are dust,<br/> +Their mokes are rust,” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +misquoted Wally cheerfully. +</p> + +<p> +“We don’t know, bless you. Cleared out, harness and all. +We’ll have a wallaby and kangaroo hunt after this. Who’s +won?” +</p> + +<p> +“Billy,” said Jim, indicating that sable hero. “In a common +walk. Fed him over. All right, now, Billy, you catch-um kangaroo, +wallaby—d’you hear?” +</p> + +<p> +Billy showed a set of amazingly white teeth in a broad grin, and departed +swiftly and silently. +</p> + +<p> +“Where’s Lee Wing?” +</p> + +<p> +“Had to tear him off Hogg!” Jim grinned. “You never saw such +a shindy. They’ve retired in bad order.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where’s Fudge?” +</p> + +<p> +“Left at the post!” +</p> + +<p> +“Where’s Mrs. Brown—and the tortoise?” +</p> + +<p> +“Great Scott!” Jim looked round blankly. “That never occurred +to me. Where is she, I wonder?” +</p> + +<p> +The course was empty. +</p> + +<p> +“Tortoise got away with her!” laughed Wally. +</p> + +<p> +“H’m,” said Jim. “We’ll track her to her +lair.” +</p> + +<p> +In her lair—the kitchen—Mrs. Brown was discovered, modestly hiding +behind the door. The tortoise was on the table, apparently cheerful. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor dear pet!” said Mrs. Brown. “He wouldn’t run. I +don’t think he was awake to the situation, Master Jim, dear, so I just +carried him over—I didn’t think it mattered which way I +ran—and my scones were in the oven! They’re just out—perhaps +you’d all try them?”—this insinuatingly. “I don’t +think this tortoise comes of a racing family!”—and the great +menagerie race concluded happily in the kitchen in what Wally called “a +hot buttered orgy.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"></a> +CHAPTER IV.<br/> +JIM’S IDEA</h2> + +<p> +Two hammocks, side by side, under a huge pine tree, swung lazily to and fro in +the evening breeze. In them Norah and Harry rocked happily, too comfortable, as +Norah said, to talk. They had all been out riding most of the day, and were +happily tired. Tea had been discussed fully, and everything was exceedingly +peaceful. +</p> + +<p> +Footsteps at racing speed sounded far off on the gravel of the front +path—a wide sweep that ran round the broad lawn. There was a scatter of +stones, and then a thud-thud over the grass to the pine trees—sounds that +signalised the arrival of Jim and Wally, in much haste. Jim’s hurry was +so excessive that he could not pull himself up in time to avoid Harry. He +bumped violently into the hammock, with the natural result that Harry swung +sharply against Norah, and for a moment things were rather mixed. +</p> + +<p> +“You duffer!” growled Harry, steadying his rocking bed. “Hurt +you? “—this to Norah. +</p> + +<p> +“No, thanks,” Norah laughed. “What’s the matter with +you two?” +</p> + +<p> +“Got an idea,” Wally gasped, fanning himself with a pine cone. +</p> + +<p> +“Hurt you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Rather. It’s always a shock for me to have an idea. Anyway this +isn’t mine—it’s Jim’s.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh.” Norah’s tone was more respectful. Jim’s ideas +were not to be treated lightly as a rule. “Well, let’s hear +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fishing,” Jim said laconically. “Let’s start out at +the very daybreak, and get up the river to Anglers’ Bend. They say you +can always get fish there. We’ll ride, and take Billy to carry the tucker +and look for bait. Spend the whole blessed day, and come home with the mopokes. +What do you chaps say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Grand idea!” Norah cried, giving her hammock an ecstatic swing. +“We’ll have to fly round, though. Did you ask Dad?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, and he said we could go. It’s tucker that’s the +trouble. I don’t know if we’re too late to arrange about +any.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come and ask Mrs. Brown,” said Norah, flinging a pair of long +black legs over the edge of the hammock. “She’ll fix us up if she +can.” +</p> + +<p> +They tore off to the kitchen and arrived panting. Mrs. Brown was sitting in +calm state on the kitchen verandah, and greeted them with a wide, expansive +smile. Norah explained their need. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Brown pursed up her lips. +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t anythink fancy, my dear,” she said slowly. +“Only plum cake and scones, and there’s a nice cold tongue, and an +apple pie. I’d like you to have tarts, but the fire’s out. Do you +think you could manage?” +</p> + +<p> +Jim laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“I guess that’ll do, Mrs. Brown,” he said. “We’ll +live like fighting cocks, and bring you home any amount of fish for breakfast. +Don’t you worry about sandwiches, either—put in a loaf or two of +bread, and a chunk of butter, and we’ll be right as rain.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I’ll have it all packed for you first thing, Master +Jim,” Mrs. Brown declared. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s ripping,” said the boys in a breath. “Come and +find Billy.” +</p> + +<p> +Billy was dragged from the recesses of the stable. He grinned widely with joy +at the prospect of the picnic. +</p> + +<p> +“All the ponies ready at five, Billy,” ordered Jim. “Yours +too. We’re going to make a day of it—and we’ll want bait. +Now, you chaps, come along and get lines and hooks ready!” +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +“Whirr-r-r!” +</p> + +<p> +The alarm clock by Jim’s bedside shrieked suddenly in the first hint of +daylight, and Jim sprang from his pillow with the alertness of a +Jack-in-the-box, and grabbed the clock, to stop its further eloquence. He sat +down on the edge of his bed, and yawned tremendously. At the other side of the +room Harry slept peacefully. Nearer Wally’s black eyes twinkled for a +moment, and hurriedly closed, apparently in deep slumber. He snored softly. +</p> + +<p> +“Fraud!” said Jim, with emphasis. He seized his pillow, and hurled +it vigorously. It caught Wally on the face and stayed there, and beneath its +shelter the victim still snored on serenely. +</p> + +<p> +Jim rose with deliberation and, seizing the bedclothes, gave a judicious pull, +which ended in Wally’s suddenly finding himself on the floor. He clasped +wildly at the blankets, but they were dragged from his reluctant grasp. +Jim’s toe stirred him gently and at length he rose. +</p> + +<p> +“Beast!” he said miserably. “What on earth’s the good +of getting up at this hour?” +</p> + +<p> +“Got to make an early start,” replied his host. “Come and +stir up old Harry.” +</p> + +<p> +Harry was noted as a sleeper. Pillows hurled on top of him were as nought. The +bedclothes were removed, but he turned on his side and slumbered like a little +child. +</p> + +<p> +“And to think,” Wally said, “that that chap springs up madly +when the getting-up bell rings once at school!” +</p> + +<p> +“School was never like this,” Jim grinned. “There’s the +squirt, Wal.” +</p> + +<p> +The squirt was there; so was the jug of water, and a moment sufficed to charge +the weapon. The nozzle was gently inserted into the sleeper’s pyjama +collar, and in a moment the drenched and wrathful hero arose majestically from +his watery pillow and, seizing his tormentors, banged their heads together with +great effort. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re slow to wake, but no end of a terror when once you rouse +up,” said Wally, ruefully rubbing his pate. +</p> + +<p> +“Goats!” said Harry briefly, rubbing his neck with a hard towel. +“Come on and have a swim.” +</p> + +<p> +They tore down the hail, only pausing at Norah’s door while Jim ran in to +wake her—a deed speedily accomplished by gently and firmly pressing a wet +sponge upon her face. Then they raced to the lagoon, and in a few minutes were +splashing and ducking in the water. They spent more time there than Jim had +intended, their return being delayed by a spirited boat race between +Harry’s slippers, conducted by Wally and Jim. By the time Harry had +rescued his sopping footgear, the offenders were beyond pursuit in the middle +of the lagoon, so he contented himself with annexing Jim’s slippers, in +which he proudly returned to the house. Jim, arriving just too late to save his +own, promptly “collared” those of Wally, leaving the last-named +youth no alternative but to paddle home in the water-logged slippers—the +ground being too rough and stony to admit of barefoot travelling. +</p> + +<p> +Norah, fresh from the bath, was prancing about the verandah in her kimono as +the boys raced up to the house, her hair a dusky cloud about her face. +</p> + +<p> +“Not dressed?—you laziness!” Jim flung at her. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you aren’t either,” was the merry retort. +</p> + +<p> +“No; but we’ve got no silly hair to brush!” +</p> + +<p> +“Pooh!—that won’t take me any time. Mrs. Brown’s up, +Jim, and she says breakfast will be ready in ten minutes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good old Brownie!” Jim ejaculated. “Can’t beat her, +can you? D’you know if she’s got the swag packed?” +</p> + +<p> +“Everything’s packed, and she’s given it all to Billy, and +it’s on old Polly by now.” Polly was the packhorse. “Such a +jolly, big bundle—and everything covered over with cabbage leaves to keep +it cool.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hooroo for Casey! Well, scurry and get dressed, old girl. I bet you keep +us waiting at the last.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sure I won’t,” was the indignant answer, as Norah +ran off through the hail. “Think of how much longer you take over your +breakfast!” +</p> + +<p> +Ten minutes later breakfast smoked on the wide kitchen table, Mrs. Brown, like +a presiding goddess, flourishing a big spoon by a frying-pan that sent up a +savoury odour. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sure I hope you’ll all kindly excuse having it in +here,” she said in pained tones. “No use to think of those lazy +hussies of girls having the breakfast-room ready at this hour. So I thought as +how you wouldn’t mind.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mind!—not much, Mrs. Brown,” Jim laughed. +“You’re too good to us altogether. Eggs and bacon! Well, you are a +brick! Cold tucker would have done splendidly for us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Cold, indeed!—not if I know it—and you precious lambs off +for such a ride, and going to be hot weather and all,” said the +breathless Mrs. Brown indignantly. “Now, you just eat a good breakfast, +Miss Norah, my love. I’ve doughnuts here, nearly done, nice and puffy and +brown, just as you like them, so hurry up and don’t let your bacon get +cold.” +</p> + +<p> +There was not, indeed, much chance for the bacon, which disappeared in a manner +truly alarming, while its fate was speedily shared by the huge pile of crisp +doughnuts which Mrs. Brown presently placed upon the table with a flourish. +</p> + +<p> +“We don’t get things like this at school!” Wally said +regretfully, pausing for an instant before his seventh. +</p> + +<p> +“All the more reason you should eat plenty now,” said their +constructor, holding the doughnuts temptingly beneath his nose. “Come +now, dearie, do eat something!” and Wally bashfully recommenced his +efforts. +</p> + +<p> +“How’s Billy getting on?” Jim inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“Billy’s in the back kitchen, Master Jim, my love, and you’ve +no call to worry your head about him, He’s had three plates of bacon and +five eggs, and most like by this time he’s finished all his doughnuts and +drunk his coffee-pot dry. That black image will eat anythink,” concluded +Mrs. Brown solemnly. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I can’t eat anything more, anyhow,” Jim declared. +“How we’re all going to ride fifteen miles beats me. If we sleep +all day, instead of catching fish for you, you’ve only got yourself to +blame, Mrs. Brown.” Whereat Mrs. Brown emitted fat and satisfied +chuckles, and the meeting broke up noisily, and rushed off to find its hats. +</p> + +<p> +Six ponies in a line against the stable yard fence—Bobs, with an eye +looking round hopefully for Norah and sugar; Mick, most feather-headed of +chestnuts, and Jim’s especial delight; Topsy and Barcoo, good useful +station ponies, with plenty of fun, yet warranted not to break the necks of +boy-visitors; Bung Eye, a lean piebald, that no one but black Billy ever +thought of riding; next to him old Polly, packed securely with the day’s +provisions. Two fishing-rods stuck out from her bundles, and a big bunch of +hobbles jingled as she moved. +</p> + +<p> +There was nothing in the saddles to distinguish Norah’s mount, for she, +too, rode astride. Mr. Linton had a rooted dislike to side saddles, and was +wont to say he preferred horses with sound withers and a daughter whose right +hip was not higher than her left. So Norah rode on a dainty little hunting +saddle like Jim’s, her habit being a neat divided skirt, which had the +double advantage of looking nice on horseback, and having no bothersome tail to +hold up when off. +</p> + +<p> +The boys were dressed without regard to appearances—loose old coats and +trousers, soft shirts and leggings. Red-striped towels, peeping out of +Polly’s packs, indicated that Jim had not forgotten the possibilities of +bathing which the creek afforded. A tin teapot jangled cheerfully against a +well-used black billy. +</p> + +<p> +“All right, you chaps?” Jim ran his eye over the ponies and their +gear. “Better have a look at your girths. Come along.” +</p> + +<p> +Norah was already in the saddle, exulting over the fact that, in spite of +Jim’s prophecy that she would be late, she was the first to be mounted. +Bobs was prancing happily, infected with the gaiety of the moment, the sweet +morning air and sunshine, and the spirit of mirth that was everywhere. Mick +joined him in capering, as Jim swung himself into the saddle. Billy, leading +Polly, and betraying an evident distaste for a task which so hampered the +freedom of his movements, moved off down the track. +</p> + +<p> +Just as Wally and Harry mounted, a tall figure in pyjamas appeared at the gate +of the back yard. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s Dad!” Norah cried gleefully, cantering up to him. +The boys followed. +</p> + +<p> +“Had to get up to see the last of you,” Mr. Linton said; “not +much chance of sleeping anyhow, with you rowdy people about.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did we wake you, Dad?—sorry.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very sorry, aren’t you?” Mr. Linton laughed at the merry +face. “Well, take care of yourselves; remember, Norah’s in your +charge, Jim, and all the others in yours, Norah! Keep an eye to your ponies, +and don’t let them stray too far, even if they are hobbled. And mind you +bring me home any amount of fish, Harry and Wal.” +</p> + +<p> +“We will, sir,” chorused the boys. +</p> + +<p> +Norah leant from her saddle and slipped an arm round her father’s neck. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-bye, Dad, dear.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good-bye, my little girl. Be careful—don’t forget.” +Mr. Linton kissed her fondly. “Well, you’re all in a +hurry—and so am I, to get back to bed! So-long, all of you. Have a good +time.” +</p> + +<p> +“So-long!” The echoes brought back the merry shout as the six +ponies disappeared round the bend in the track. +</p> + +<p> +Down the track to the first gate helter-skelter—Billy, holding it open, +showed his white teeth in a broad grin as the merry band swept through. Then +over the long grass of the broad paddock, swift hoofs shaking off the dewdrops +that yet hung sparkling in the sunshine. Billy plodded far behind with the +packhorse, envy in his heart and discontent with the fate that kept him so far +in the rear, compelled to progress at the tamest of jogs. +</p> + +<p> +The second paddock traversed, they passed through the sliprails into a bush +paddock known as the Wide Plain. It was heavily timbered towards one end, where +the river formed its boundary, but towards the end at which they entered was +almost cleared, only a few logs lying here and there, and occasionally a tall +dead tree. +</p> + +<p> +“What a place for a gallop!” said Harry. His quiet face was flushed +and his eyes sparkling. +</p> + +<p> +“Look at old Harry!” jeered Wally. “He’s quite excited. +Does your mother know you’re out, Hal?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll punch you, young Wally,” retorted Harry. “Just +you be civil. But isn’t it a splendid place? Why, there’s a clear +run for a mile, I should say.” +</p> + +<p> +“More than that,” Jim answered. “We’ve often raced +here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” Norah’s eyes fairly danced. “Let’s have a +race now!” +</p> + +<p> +“Noble idea!” exclaimed Wally. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it’ll have to be a handicap to make it fair,” Jim +said. “If we start level, Norah’s pony can beat any of the others, +and I think Mick can beat the other two. At any rate we’ll give you +fellows a start, and Norah must give me one.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t care,” Norah said gleefully, digging her heel into +Bobs, with the result that that animal suddenly executed a bound in mid-air. +“Steady, you duffer; I didn’t mean any offence, Bobsie dear,” +She patted his neck. +</p> + +<p> +“I should think you wouldn’t care,” Jim said. “Best +pony and lightest weight! You ought to be able to leave any of us miles behind, +so we’ll give you a beautiful handicap, young woman!” +</p> + +<p> +“Where’s the winning post?” Harry asked. +</p> + +<p> +“See that big black tree—the one just near the boundary fence, I +mean? It’s a few chains from the fence, really. We’ll finish +there,” Jim replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Come on, then,” said Norah, impatiently. “Get on ahead, +Harry and Wally; you’ll have to sing out ‘Go!’ Jim, and sing +it out loud, ’cause we’ll be ever so far apart.” +</p> + +<p> +“Right oh!” Jim said. “Harry, clear on a good way; +you’re the heaviest. Pull up when I tell you; you too, Wal.” He +watched the two boys ride on slowly, and sang out to them to stop when he +considered they had received a fair start. Then he rode on himself until he was +midway between Wally and Norah, Harry some distance ahead of the former. The +ponies had an inkling of what was in the wind, and were dancing with +impatience. +</p> + +<p> +“Now then, Norah,”—Jim flung a laughing look over his +shoulder—“no cribbing there!” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not!” came an indignant voice. +</p> + +<p> +“All right—don’t! Ready every one? Then—go!” As +the word “Go” left Jim’s lips the four ponies sprang forward +sharply, and a moment later were in full gallop over the soft springy turf. It +was an ideal place for a race—clear ground, covered with short soft +grass, well eaten off by the sheep—no trees to bar the way, and over all +a sky of the brightest blue, flecked by tiny, fleecy cloudlets. +</p> + +<p> +They tore over the paddock, shouting at the ponies laughing, hurling defiance +at each other. At first Harry kept his lead; but weight will tell, and +presently Wally was almost level with him, with Jim not far behind. Bobs had +not gone too well at first—he was too excited to get thoroughly into his +stride, and had spent his time in dancing when he should have been making up +his handicap. +</p> + +<p> +When, however, he did condescend to gallop, the distance that separated him +from the other ponies was rapidly overhauled. Norah, leaning forward in her +stirrups, her face alight with eagerness, urged him on with voice and +hand—she rarely, if ever touched him with a whip at any time. Quickly she +gained on the others; now Harry was caught and passed, even as Jim caught Wally +and deprived him of the lead he had gaily held for some time. Wally shouted +laughing abuse at him, flogging his pony on the while. +</p> + +<p> +Now Norah was neck and neck with Wally, and slowly she drew past him and set +sail after Jim. That she could beat him she knew very well, but the question +was, was there time to catch him? The big tree which formed the winning post +was very near now. “Scoot, Bobsie, dear!” whispered Norah +unconscious of the fact that she was saying anything unmaidenly. At any rate, +Bobs understood, for he went forward with a bound. They were nearly level with +Jim now—Wally, desperately flogging, close in the rear. +</p> + +<p> +At that moment Jim’s pony put his foot into a hole, and went down like a +shot rabbit, bowling over and over, Jim flung like a stone out of a catapult, +landed some distance ahead of the pony. He, too, rolled for a moment, and then +lay still. +</p> + +<p> +It seemed to Norah that she pulled Bobs up almost in his stride. Certainly she +was off before he had fairly slackened to a walk, throwing herself wildly from +the saddle. She tore up to Jim—Jim, who lay horribly still. +</p> + +<p> +“Jim—dear Jim!” she cried. She took his head on her knee. +“Jim—oh, Jim, do speak to me!” +</p> + +<p> +There was no sound. The boy lay motionless, his tanned face strangely white. +Harry, coming up, jumped off, and ran to his side. +</p> + +<p> +“Is he hurt much?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know—no, don’t you say he’s hurt +much—he couldn’t be, in such a second! Jim—dear—speak, +old chap!” A big sob rose in her throat, and choked her at the heavy +silence. Harry took Jim’s wrist in his hand, and felt with fumbling +fingers for the pulse. Wally, having pulled his pony up with difficulty, came +tearing back to the little group. +</p> + +<p> +“Is he killed?” he whispered, awestruck. +</p> + +<p> +A little shiver ran through Jim’s body. Slowly he opened his eyes, and +stretched himself. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s up?” he said weakly. “Oh, I know.... +Mick?” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s all right, darling,” Norah said, with a quivering +voice. “Are you hurt much?” +</p> + +<p> +“Bit of a bump on my head,” Jim said, struggling to a sitting +position. He rubbed his forehead. “What’s up, Norah?” For the +brown head had gone down on his knee and the shoulders were shaking. +</p> + +<p> +Jim patted her head very gently. +</p> + +<p> +“You dear old duffer,” he said tenderly. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"></a> +CHAPTER V.<br/> +ANGLERS’ BEND</h2> + +<p> +Jim’s “bump on the head” luckily proved not very serious. A +handkerchief, soaked in the creek by Wally, who rode there and back at a wild +gallop, proved an effective bandage applied energetically by Harry, who had +studied “first-aid” in an ambulance class. Ten minutes of this +treatment, however, proved as much as Jim’s patience would stand, and at +the end of that time he firmly removed the handkerchief, and professed himself +cured. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing to make a fuss about, anyhow,” he declared, in answer to +sympathetic inquiries. “Head’s a bit ‘off,’ but nothing +to grumble at. It’ll be all right, if we ride along steadily for a while. +I don’t think I’ll do any more racing just now though, thank +you!” +</p> + +<p> +“Who won that race?” queried Harry, laughing. The spirits of the +little party, from being suddenly at zero, had gone up with a bound. +</p> + +<p> +“Blessed if I know,” said Jim. “I only know I was leading +until Mick ended matters for me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I led after that, anyhow,” said Wally. “Couldn’t pull +my beauty up, he was so excited by Mick’s somersault.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d have won, in the long run!” Norah said. There were still +traces of tears in her eyes, but her face was merry enough. She was riding very +close to Jim. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I think you would,” Jim answered; “you and Bobs were +coming up like a hurricane last time I looked round. Never mind, we’ll +call it anybody’s race and have it over again sometime.” +</p> + +<p> +They rode along for a few miles, keeping close to the river, which wound in and +out, fringed with a thick belt of scrub, amongst which rose tall red-gum trees. +Flights of cockatoos screamed over their heads, and magpies gurgled in the +thick shades by the water. Occasionally came the clear whistle of a lyre bird +or the peal of a laughing jackass. Jim knew all the bird-notes, as well as the +signs of bush game, and pointed them out as they rode. Once a big wallaby +showed for an instant, and there was a general outcry and a plunge in pursuit, +but the wallaby was too quick for them, and found a safe hiding-place in the +thickest of the scrub, where the ponies could not follow. +</p> + +<p> +“We cross the creek up here,” Jim said, “and make +’cross country a bit. It saves several miles.” +</p> + +<p> +“How do you cross? Bridge?” queried Wally. +</p> + +<p> +“Bridge!—don’t grow such things in this part of the +world,” laughed Jim. “No, there’s a place where it’s +easy enough to ford, a little way up. There are plenty of places fordable, if +you only know them, on this creek; but a number of them are dangerous, because +of deep holes and boggy places. Father lost a good horse in one of those bogs, +and to look at the place you’d only have thought it a nice level bit of +grassy ground.” +</p> + +<p> +“My word!” Wally whistled. “What a bit of hard luck!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it was, rather,” Jim said. “It made us careful about +crossing, I can tell you. Even the men look out since Harry Wilson got bogged +another time, trying to get over after a bullock. Of course he wouldn’t +wait to go round, and he had an awful job to get his horse out of the +mud—it’s something like a quicksand. After that father had two or +three good crossings made very plain and clear, and whenever a new man is put +on they’re explained to him. See, there’s one now.” +</p> + +<p> +They came suddenly on a gap in the scrub, leading directly to the creek, which +was, indeed, more of a river than a creek, and in winter ran in a broad, rapid +stream. Even in summer it ran always, though the full current dwindled to a +trickling, sluggish streamlet, with here and there a deep, quiet pool, where +the fish lay hidden through the long hot days. +</p> + +<p> +All the brushwood and trees had been cleared away, leaving a broad pathway to +the creek. At the edge of the gap a big board, nailed to a tall tree, bore the +word FORD in large letters. Farther on, between the trees, a glimpse of shining +water caught the eye. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the way father’s had all the fords marked,” +Norah said. “He says it’s no good running risks for the sake of a +little trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dad’s always preaching that,” Jim observed. “He says +people are too fond of putting up with makeshifts, that cost ever so much more +time and trouble than it does to do a thing thoroughly at the start. So he +always makes us do a thing just as well as we know how, and there’s no +end of rows if he finds any one ‘half doing’ a job. ‘Begin +well and finish better,’ he says. My word, it gives you a lesson to see +how he fixes a thing himself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dear old Dad,” said Norah softly, half to herself. +</p> + +<p> +“I think your father’s just splendid,” Harry said +enthusiastically. “He does give you a good time, too.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I know he does,” Jim said. “I reckon he’s the +best man that ever lived! All the same, he doesn’t mean to give me a good +time always. When I leave school I’ve got to work and make my own living, +with just a start from him. He says he’s not going to bring any boy up to +be a loafer.” Jim’s eyes grew soft. “I mean to show him I can +work, too,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +They were at the water’s edge, and the ponies gratefully put their heads +down for a drink of the cool stream that clattered and danced over its stony +bed. After they had finished, Jim led the way through the water, which was only +deep enough to wash the ponies’ knees. When they had climbed the opposite +bank, a wide, grassy plain stretched before them. +</p> + +<p> +“We cut across here,” Norah explained, “and pick up the creek +over there—that saves a good deal.” +</p> + +<p> +“Does Billy know this cut?” Harry queried. +</p> + +<p> +“What doesn’t Billy know?” Norah laughed. “Come +along.” +</p> + +<p> +They cantered slowly over the grass, remembering that Jim was scarcely fit yet +for violent exercise, though he stoutly averred that his accident had left no +traces whatever. The sun was getting high and it was hot, away from the cool +shade near the creek. Twice a hare bounded off in the grass, and once Harry +jumped off hurriedly and killed a big brown snake that was lazily sunning +itself upon a broad log. +</p> + +<p> +“I do hate those beasts!” he said, remounting. Norah had held his +pony for him. +</p> + +<p> +“So do I,” she nodded; “only one gets used to them. Father +found one on his pillow the other night.” +</p> + +<p> +“By George!” Harry said. “Did he kill it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, rather. They are pretty thick here, especially a bit earlier than +this. One got into the kitchen through the window, by the big vine that grows +outside, and when Mrs. Brown pulled down the blind it came, too—it was on +the roller. That was last Christmas, and Mrs. Brown says she’s shaking +still!” +</p> + +<p> +“Snakes are rummy things,” Harry observed. “Ever hear that +you can charm them with music?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve heard it,” Norah said quaintly. Her tone implied that +it was a piece of evidence she did not accept on hearsay. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I believe it’s true. Last summer a whole lot of us were out +on the verandah, and there was plenty of laughing and talking going on—a +snake wouldn’t crawl into a rowdy group like that for the fun of it, now, +would he? It was Christmas day, and my little brother Phil—he’s +six—had found a piccolo in his stocking, and he was sitting on the end of +the verandah playing away at this thing. We thought it was a bit of a row, but +Phil was quite happy. Presently my sister Vera looked at him, and screamed out, +‘Why, there’s a snake!’ +</p> + +<p> +“So there was, and it was just beside Phil. It had crawled up between the +verandah boards, and was lying quietly near the little chap, looking at him +stealthily—he was blowing away, quite unconcerned. We didn’t know +what to do for a moment, for the beastly thing was so near Phil that we +didn’t like to hit it for fear we missed and it bit him. However, Phil +solved the difficulty by getting up and walking off, still playing the piccolo. +The snake never stirred when he did—and you may be sure it didn’t +get much chance to stir after. Three sticks came down on it at the same +time.” +</p> + +<p> +“I say!” Norah breathed quickly. “What an escape for poor +Phil!” +</p> + +<p> +“Wasn’t it? He didn’t seem to care a bit when we showed him +the snake and told him it had been so near him—he hadn’t known a +thing about it. ‘Can’t be bovvered wiv snakes,’ was all he +said.” +</p> + +<p> +“When I was a little kiddie,” Norah said, “they found me +playing with a snake one day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Playing with it?” Harry echoed. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; I was only about two, and I don’t remember anything about it. +Dad came on to the back verandah, and saw me sitting by a patch of dust, +stroking something. He couldn’t make out what it was at first, and then +he came a bit nearer, and saw that it was a big snake. It was lying in the dust +sunning itself, and I was stroking it most kindly.” +</p> + +<p> +“By George!” said Harry. +</p> + +<p> +“Funny what things kiddies will do!” said Norah, with all the +superiority of twelve long years. “It frightened Dad tremendously. He +didn’t know what to do, ’cause he didn’t dare come near or +call out. I s’pose the snake saw him, ’cause it began to move. It +crawled right over my bare legs.” +</p> + +<p> +“And never bit you?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; I kept on stroking its back as it went over my knees, without the +least idea that it was anything dangerous. Dad said it seemed years and years +before it went right over and crawled away from me into the grass. He had me +out of the way in about half a second, and got a stick, and I cried like +anything when he killed it, and said he was naughty!” +</p> + +<p> +“If you chaps have finished swopping snake yarns,” said Jim, +turning in his saddle, “there’s Anglers’ Bend.” +</p> + +<p> +They had been riding steadily across the plain, until they had again come near +the scrub-line which marked the course of the creek. Following the direction +pointed by Jim’s finger, they saw a deep curve in the green, where the +creek suddenly left the fairly straight course it had been pursuing and made +two great bends something like a capital U, the points of which lay in their +direction. They rode down between them until they were almost at the +water’s edge. +</p> + +<p> +Here the creek was very deep, and in sweeping round had cut out a wide bed, +nearly three times its usual breadth. Tall trees grew almost to the verge of +the banks on both sides, so that the water was almost always in shadow, while +so high were the banks that few breezes were able to ripple its surface. It lay +placid all the year, scarcely troubled even in winter, when the other parts of +the creek rushed and tumbled in flood. There was room in the high banks of +Anglers’ Bend for all the extra water, and its presence was only marked +by the strength of the current that ran in the very centre of the stream. +</p> + +<p> +Just now the water was not high, and seemed very far below the children, who +sat looking at it from their ponies on the bank. As they watched in silence a +fish leaped in the middle of the Bend. The sudden movement seemed amazing in +the stillness. It flashed for an instant in a patch of sunlight, and then fell +back, sending circling ripples spreading to each bank. +</p> + +<p> +“Good omen, I hope,” Harry said, “though they often +don’t bite when they jump, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s not often they don’t bite here,” Jim said. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it looks a good enough place for anything—if we can’t +catch fish here, we won’t be up to much as anglers,” Harry said. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve been here before, haven’t you, Norah?” Wally +asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes; ever so many times.” +</p> + +<p> +“Father and Norah have great fishing excursions on their own,” said +Jim. “They take a tent and camp out for two or three days with Billy as +general flunkey. I don’t know how many whales they haven’t caught +at this place. They know the Bend as well as any one.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I guess we’d better take off the saddles and get to +work,” said Norah, slipping off Bobs and patting his neck before undoing +the girth. The boys followed her example and soon the saddles were safely +stowed in the shade. Then Jim turned with a laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, we are duffers,” he said. “Can’t do a thing till +Billy turns up. He’s got all the hooks and lines, all the bait, all the +hobbles, all the everything!” +</p> + +<p> +“Whew-w!” whistled the boys. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it doesn’t matter,” Norah said cheerfully. +“There’s lots to do. We can hang up the ponies while we hunt for +rods. You boys have got your strong knives, haven’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +They had, and immediately scattered to work. The ponies having been tied +securely under a grove of saplings, the search for rods began, and soon four +long straight sticks were obtained with the necessary amount of +“springiness.” Then they hunted for a suitable camping-ground, +where lunch might be eaten without too much disturbance from flies and +mosquitoes, and gathered a good supply of dry sticks for a fire. +</p> + +<p> +“Billy ought to bless us, anyhow,” Jim grinned. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, oughtn’t he? Come along and see if he’s coming.” +They ran out upon the plain, and cheerful exclamations immediately proclaimed +the fact that Billy and the old packhorse had at length made their appearance +in what Wally called the “offing.” +</p> + +<p> +Billy soon clattered up to the little party, the hobbles and quart pot jingling +cheerfully on old Polly’s back. He grinned amiably at the four merry +faces awaiting him in the shade of a wattle tree. +</p> + +<p> +“This feller pretty slow,” he said, indicating Polly with a jerk of +his thumb. “You all waitin’ for tackle?” +</p> + +<p> +“Rather,” said Jim. “Never mind, we’ve got everything +ready. Look sharp and shy down the hooks, Billy—they’re in that +tin, and the lines are tied on to it, in a parcel. That’s right,” +as the black boy tossed the tackle down and he caught it deftly. “Now, +you chaps, get to work, and get your lines ready.” +</p> + +<p> +“Right oh!” said the chorus, as it fell to work. Billy made a swift +incursion into the interior of the pack, and fished up a tin of worms and some +raw meat, Wally being the only one to patronize the latter. The other three +baited their hooks with worms, and, all being in readiness, made their way down +the steep bank at a place where a little cleft gave easier access to a tiny +shelving beach below. Here a great tree-trunk had long ago been left by an +unusually high flood, and formed a splendid place to fish from, as it jutted +out for some distance over the stream. Norah scrambled out like a cat to its +farthest extremity, and Harry followed her for part of the way. Wally and Jim +settled themselves at intervals along the trunk. Sinkers, floats and baits were +examined, and the business of the day began. +</p> + +<p> +Everybody knows how it feels to fish. You throw in your hook with such blissful +certainty that no fish can possibly resist the temptation you are dangling +before its eyes. There is suppressed excitement all over you. You are all on +the alert, feeling for imaginary nibbles, for bites that are not there. +Sometimes, of course, the dreams come true, and the bites are realities; but +these occasions are sadly outnumbered by the times when you keep on feeling and +bobbing your line vainly, while excitement lulls to expectation, and +expectation merges into hope, and hope becomes wishing, and wishing often dies +down to disappointment. +</p> + +<p> +Such was the gradual fate of the fishing party at Anglers’ Bend. At first +the four floats were watched with an intensity of regard that should surely +have had some effect in luring fishes to the surface; but as the minutes +dragged by and not a fish seemed inclined even to nibble, the solemn silence +which had brooded on the quartet was broken by sundry fidgetings and wrigglings +and suppressed remarks on the variableness of fish and the slowness of fishing. +Men enjoy the sport, because they can light their pipes and smoke in expectant +ease; but the consolation of tobacco was debarred from boys who were, as Jim +put it, “too young to smoke and too old to make idiots of themselves by +trying it,” and so they found it undeniably dull. +</p> + +<p> +Billy came down to join the party presently, after he had seen to his horses +and unpacked old Polly’s load. His appearance gave Jim a brilliant idea, +and he promptly despatched the black boy for cake, which proved a welcome +stimulant to flagging enthusiasm. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t know if fish care about cake crumbs,” said Harry, +finishing a huge slice with some regret. +</p> + +<p> +“Didn’t get a chance of sampling any of mine,” Wally laughed; +“I wanted it all myself. Hallo!” +</p> + +<p> +“What is it—a bite?” +</p> + +<p> +“Rather—such a whopper! I’ve got it, too,” Wally +gasped, tugging at his line. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve got it, right enough,” Jim said. “Why, your +rod’s bending right over. Want a hand?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, thanks—manage it myself,” said the fisherman, tugging +manfully. “Here she comes!” +</p> + +<p> +The line came in faster now, and the strain on the rod was plain. Excitement +ran high. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a great big perch, I do believe,” Norah exclaimed. +“Just fancy, if it beats Dad’s big boomer—the biggest ever +caught here.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’ll beat some records,” Wally gasped, hauling in +frantically. “Here she comes!” +</p> + +<p> +“She” came, with a final jerk. Jim broke into a suppressed shout of +laughter. For Wally’s catch was nothing less than an ancient, mud-laden +boot! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"></a> +CHAPTER VI.<br/> +A BUSH FIRE</h2> + +<p> +Wally disentangled his hook gravely, while the others would have laughed more +heartily but for fear of frightening the fish. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’m blessed!” said the captor at length, surveying the +prize with his nose in the air. “A blooming old boot! Been there since +the year one, I should think, by the look of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought you had a whale at the very least,” grinned Harry. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’ve broken my duck, anyhow, and that’s more than any +of you others can say!” Wally laughed. “Time enough for you to grin +when you’ve caught something yourselves—even if it’s only an +old boot! It’s a real old stager and no mistake. I wonder how it came in +here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Some poor old beggar of a swaggie, I expect,” Jim said. “He +didn’t chuck it away until it was pretty well done, did he? Look at the +holes in the uppers—and there’s no sole left to speak of.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you see many tramps here?” Harry asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Not many—we’re too far from a road,” Jim replied. +“Of course there are a certain number who know of the station, and are +sure of getting tucker there—and a job if they want one—not that +many of them do, the lazy beggars. Most of them would be injured if you asked +them to chop a bit of wood in return for a meal, and some of them threaten to +set the place on fire if they don’t get all they want.” +</p> + +<p> +“My word!” said Wally. “Did they ever do it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Once—two years ago,” Jim answered. “A fellow came one +hot evening in January. We’d had a long spell of heat, and all our meat +had gone bad that day; there was hardly a bit in the place, and of course they +couldn’t kill a beast till evening. About the middle of the day this chap +turned up and asked for tucker. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Brown gave him bread and flour and tea and some cake—a real +good haul for any swaggie. It was too good for this fellow, for he immediately +turned up his proud nose and said he wanted meat. Mrs. Brown explained that she +hadn’t any to give him; but he evidently didn’t believe her, said +it was our darned meanness and, seeing no men about, got pretty insulting. At +last he tried to force his way past Mrs. Brown into the kitchen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did he get in?” asked Wally. +</p> + +<p> +“Nearly—not quite, though. Dad and Norah and I had been out riding, +and we came home, past the back yard, in the nick of time. We couldn’t +hear what the fellow was saying to Mrs. Brown, but his attitude was enough to +make us pull up, and as we did so we saw him try to shove her aside. She was +plucky enough and banged the door in his face, but he got his foot in the +crack, so that it couldn’t shut, and began to push it open. +</p> + +<p> +“Dad slipped off his horse gently. He made a sign to us to keep quiet and +went across the yard, and we saw him shake the lash of his stockwhip loose. You +can just fancy how Norah and I were dancing with joy! +</p> + +<p> +“Dad was just near the verandah when we saw the door give. Poor old +Brownie was getting the worst of it. We heard the fellow call out +something—a threat—and Dad’s arm went up, and the stockwhip +came down like a flash across the man’s shoulder He gave one yell! You +never heard such an amazed and terrified roar in your life!” and Jim +chuckled with joy at the recollection. +</p> + +<p> +“He turned on Dad and jumped at him, but he got another one with the whip +that made him pause, and then Dad caught him and shook him like a rat. Mr. +Swaggie was limp enough when it was over. +</p> + +<p> +“‘I’ve a very good mind to give you in charge!’ Dad +said—he was simply furious. It made a fellow feel pretty bad to see poor +old Brownie’s white face in the doorway, and to think what a fright she +had had. +</p> + +<p> +“The swaggie turned a very ugly look on Dad. +</p> + +<p> +“‘You give me in charge, and I’ll precious quick have you up +for assault!’ he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Dad laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“‘As for that, you can do exactly as you choose,’ he said. +‘I’ll be quite ready to answer for thrashing a cur like you. +However, you’re not worth carting seventeen miles to Cunjee, so you can +go—the quicker the better.” +</p> + +<p> +“And he cleared, I suppose?” Wally asked. +</p> + +<p> +“He just did—went like a redshank. But when he got outside the gate +and a bit away he stopped and turned round and let fly at Dad—such a +volley of threats and abuse you never heard. It finished up with something +about the grass; we didn’t quite understand what; but we remembered it +later, and then it was clearer to us. However, he didn’t stop to explain, +as Dad turned the dogs loose. They lost no time, and neither did the swaggie. +He left the place at about the rate of a mile a minute!” +</p> + +<p> +Jim paused. +</p> + +<p> +“Thought I had a bite,” he said, pulling up his line. “Bother +it! The bait’s gone! Chuck me a worm, young Wally.” He impaled the +worm and flung his line out again. +</p> + +<p> +“Where was I? Oh, yes. Norah and I were a bit scared about the swaggie, +and wondered what he’d try to do; but Dad only laughed at us. It never +entered his head that the brute would really try to have his revenge. Of course +it would have been easy enough to have had him watched off the place, but Dad +didn’t even think of it. He knows better now. +</p> + +<p> +“I waked up early next morning hearing someone yelling outside. It was +only just light. I slipped out of my window and ran into the yard, and the +first thing I saw was smoke. It was coming from the west, a great cloud of it, +with plenty of wind to help it along. It was one of those hot autumn +mornings—you know the kind. Make you feel anyhow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who was yelling?” asked Harry. +</p> + +<p> +“One of Morrison’s men—he owns the land adjoining ours. This +fellow was coo-eeing for all he was worth. +</p> + +<p> +“‘You’d better rouse your men out quick ’n +lively,’ he sang out. ‘There’s a big grass fire between us +and you. All our chaps are workin’ at it; but I don’t fancy they +can keep it back in this wind.’ +</p> + +<p> +“I just turned and ran. +</p> + +<p> +“The big bell we use for summoning the men to their meals hangs under the +kitchen verandah and I made a bee-line for it. There seemed plenty of rocks and +bits of glass about, and my bare feet got ’em all—at least I +thought so—but there wasn’t time to think much. Morrison’s +chap had galloped off as soon as he gave his news. I caught hold of the +bell-pull and worked it all I knew! +</p> + +<p> +“You should have seen them tumble out! In about half a minute the place +was like a jumpers’ nest that you’ve stirred up with a stick. Dad +came out of the back door in his pyjamas, Norah came scudding along the +verandah, putting on her kimono as she ran, Brownie and the other servants +appeared at their windows, and the men came tumbling out of the barracks and +the hut like so many rabbits. +</p> + +<p> +“Dad was annoyed. +</p> + +<p> +“‘What are you doing, you young donkey?’ he sang out. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Look over there!’ I says, tugging the bell. +</p> + +<p> +“Dad looked. It didn’t take him long to see what was up when he +spied that big cloud of smoke. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Great Scott!’ he shouted. ‘Jim, get Billy to run the +horses up. Where are you all? Burrows, Field, Henry! Get out the +water-cart—quick. All of you get ready fire-beaters. Dress +yourselves—quickly!’ (You could see that was quite an afterthought +on Dad’s part.) Then he turned and fled inside to dress.” +</p> + +<p> +“How ripping!” Wally said, wriggling on the log with joy. +</p> + +<p> +“Ripping, do you call it?” said Jim indignantly. “You try it +for yourself, young Wally, and see. Fire’s not much of a joke when +you’re fighting it yourself, I can tell you. Well, Dad was out again in +about two shakes, ready for the fray, and you can bet the rest of us +didn’t linger long. Billy had the horses up almost as soon, and every one +got his own. Things were a bit merry in the stockyard, I can tell you, and +heels did fly. +</p> + +<p> +“After all, Norah here was the first mounted. Bobs was in the stable, you +see, and Norah had him saddled before any of us had put our bridles on. +Goodness knows how she dressed. I guess it wasn’t much of a +toilet!” +</p> + +<p> +Jim ducked suddenly, and a chip hurled by Norah flew over his head and splashed +into the water. +</p> + +<p> +“Get out—you’ll frighten the fish!” he said, grinning. +“My yarn, old girl.” +</p> + +<p> +“Might have had the sense to keep me out of it,” said Norah +impolitely. +</p> + +<p> +“You be jiggered,” said Jim affectionately. “Anyhow, boys, +you should have seen Dad’s face when Norah trotted over from the stable. +He was just girthing up old Bosun, and I was wrestling with Sirdar, who +didn’t want his crupper on. +</p> + +<p> +“‘My dear child,’ Dad said, ‘get off that pony and go +back to bed. You can’t think I could allow you to come out?’ +</p> + +<p> +“Poor old Norah’s face fell about a foot. She begged and argued, +but she might as well have spared herself the trouble. At last Dad said she +could ride out in the first two paddocks, but no nearer the fire, she had to be +content with that. I think she was pretty near mopping her eyes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wasn’t,” said Norah indistinctly. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, we went off. All of us had fire-beaters. You know we always have +them ready; and Field was driving the water-cart—it always stands ready +filled for use. We just galloped like mad. Dad didn’t wait for any +gates—Bosun can jump anything—and he just went straight across +country. Luckily, there was no stock in the paddocks near the house, except +that in one small paddock were about twenty valuable prize sheep. However, the +fire was so far off that we reckoned they were safe, and so we turned our +attention to the fire. +</p> + +<p> +“We left old Norah in the second paddock, looking as miserable as a +bandicoot. Dad made her promise not to meddle with the fire. ‘Promise me +you won’t try any putting out on your own account,’ he said; and +Norah promised very reluctantly. I was jolly sorry you were out of it, you +know, old kid,” said Jim reflectively; and Norah gave him a little smile. +</p> + +<p> +“We made great time across the paddocks,” Jim continued. “Dad +was ever so far ahead, of course, but our contingent, that had to go round by +the gates, didn’t do so badly. Billy was on Mick, and he and I had a go +for the lead across the last paddock.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who won?” asked Harry. +</p> + +<p> +“Me,” said Jim ungrammatically. “When we got into the smoke +we had to go round a bit, or we’d have gone straight into the fire. We +hung up the horses in a corner that had been burnt round, and was safe from +more fire, and off we went. There were ever so many men fighting it; all +Morrison’s fellows, and a lot from other places as well. The fire had +started right at our boundary, and had come across a two-hundred acre paddock +like a shot. Then a little creek checked it a bit, and let the fighters have a +show. +</p> + +<p> +“There were big trees blazing everywhere, and stumps and logs, and every +few minutes the fire would get going again in some ferns or long grass, and go +like mischief, and half a dozen men after it, to stop it. It had got across the +creek, and there was a line of men on the bank keeping it back. Some others +were chopping down the big, blazing, dead trees, that were simply showering +sparks all round. The wind was pretty strong, and took burning leaves and +sticks ever so far and started the fire in different places. Three fellows on +ponies were doing nothing but watch for these flying firebrands, galloping +after them and putting them out as they fell.” +</p> + +<p> +Jim paused. +</p> + +<p> +“Say you put your hook in the water, Wally, old chap,” he +suggested. +</p> + +<p> +Wally looked and blushed. In the excitement of the moment he had unconsciously +pulled up his line until the bait dangled helplessly in the air, a foot above +the water. The party on the log laughed at the expense of Wally, and Jim +proceeded. +</p> + +<p> +“Father and four other men came across the creek and sang out to +us— +</p> + +<p> +“‘We’re going back a bit to burn a break!’ they said. +‘Come along.’ +</p> + +<p> +“We all went back about a hundred yards from the creek and lit the grass, +spreading out in a long line across the paddock. Then every one kept his own +little fire from going in the wrong direction, and kept it burning back towards +the creek, of course preventing any logs or trees from getting alight. It was +pretty tough work, the smoke was so bad, but at last it was done, and a big, +burnt streak put across the paddock. Except for flying bits of lighted stuff +there wasn’t much risk of the fire getting away from us when once we had +got that break to help us. You see, a grass fire isn’t like a real bush +fire. It’s a far more manageable beast. It’s when you get fire in +thick scrub that you can just make up your mind to stand aside and let her +rip!” +</p> + +<p> +Jim pulled up his book and examined his bait carefully. +</p> + +<p> +“Fish seem off us,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“That all the yarn?” Harry asked. +</p> + +<p> +“No, there’s more, if you’re not sick of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, fire away,” Wally said impatiently. +</p> + +<p> +Jim let his sinker go down gently until it settled in comfort in the soft mud +at the bottom. +</p> + +<p> +“This is where I come to Norah,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +That young lady turned a lively red. +</p> + +<p> +“If you’re going to tell all that bosh about me, I’m +off,” she said, disgustedly. “Good-bye. You can call me when +you’ve finished.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where are you off to, Norah?” inquired Harry. +</p> + +<p> +“Somewhere to fish—I’m tired of you old gossips—” +Norah elevated a naturally tilted nose as she wound up her tackle and rose to +her feet. She made her way along the log past the three boys until she reached +the land, and, scrambling up the bank, vanished in the scrub. Presently they +saw her reappear at a point a little lower down, where she ensconced herself in +the roots of a tree that was sticking out of the bank, and looked extremely +unsafe. She flung her line in below her perch. +</p> + +<p> +“Hope she’s all right,” Harry said uneasily. +</p> + +<p> +“You bet. Norah knows what she’s about,” Jim said calmly. +“She can swim like a fish anyhow!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, go on with your yarn,” urged Wally. +</p> + +<p> +“Well—I told you how we stopped the fire at the little creek, +didn’t I? We thought it was pretty safe after we had burnt such a good +break, and the men with axes had chopped down nearly all the big trees that +were alight, so that they couldn’t spread the fire. We reckoned we could +sit down and mop our grimy brows and think what fine, brave, bold heroes we +were! Which we did. +</p> + +<p> +“There was one big tree the men couldn’t get down. It was right on +a bit of a hill, near the bank of the creek—a big brute of a tree, hollow +for about twelve feet, and I don’t know how high, but I’ll bet it +was over a hundred and fifty feet. It got alight from top to bottom, and, my +word, didn’t it blaze! +</p> + +<p> +“The men tried to chop it down, but it was too hot a job even for a +salamander. We could only watch it, and it took a lot of watching, because it +was showering sparks and bits of wood, and blazing limbs and twigs in every +direction. Lots of times they blew into the dead grass beyond our break, and it +meant galloping to put them out. +</p> + +<p> +“The wind had been pretty high all the time, and it got up suddenly to a +regular gale. It caught this old tree and fairly whisked its burning limbs off. +They flew ever so far. We thought we had them all out, when suddenly Dad gave a +yell. +</p> + +<p> +“There was a little, deep gully running at right angles to the creek, and +right through the paddocks up to the house. In winter it was a creek, but now +it was dry as a bone, and rank with dead grass at the bottom. As we looked we +saw smoke rise from this gully, far away, in the home paddock. +</p> + +<p> +“‘My Shropshires!’ said Dad, and he made a run for Bosun. +</p> + +<p> +“How we did tear! I never thought old Dad could run so hard! It seemed +miles to the corner where the horses were, and ages before we got on them and +were racing for the home paddock. And all the time the smoke was creeping along +that beastly gully, and we knew well enough that, tear as we might, we +couldn’t be in time. +</p> + +<p> +“You see, the valuable sheep were in a paddock, where this gully ended. +It wasn’t very near the house, and no one might see the fire before every +sheep was roasted. We had only just got them. Dad had imported some from +England and some from Tasmania, and I don’t know how much they +hadn’t cost.” +</p> + +<p> +“Weren’t you afraid for the house as well?” asked Harry. +</p> + +<p> +“No. There was a big ploughed paddock near the house; it would have taken +a tremendous fire to get over that and the orchard and garden. We only worried +about the Shropshires. +</p> + +<p> +“I got the lead away, but Dad caught me up pretty soon. Between us and +the sheep paddock there were only wire fences, which he wouldn’t take +Bosun over, so he couldn’t race away from the rest of us this time. +</p> + +<p> +“We might as well take it easy,’ he said, ‘for all the good +we can do. The sheep nearly live in that gully.’ +</p> + +<p> +“All the same, we raced. The wind had gone down by now, so the fire +couldn’t travel as fast as it had done in the open ground. There was a +long slope leading down to the gully, and as we got to this we could see the +whole of the little paddock, and there wasn’t a sheep in sight. Every +blessed one was in the gully, and the fire was three-parts of the way along it! +</p> + +<p> +“Roast mutton!’ I heard Dad say under his breath. +</p> + +<p> +“Then we saw Norah. She came racing on Bobs to the fence of the paddock +near the head of the gully—much nearer the fire than we were. We saw her +look at the fire and into the gully, and I reckon we all knew she was fighting +with her promise to Dad about not tackling the fire. But she saw the sheep +before we could. They had run from the smoke along the gully till they came to +the head of it, where it ended with pretty steep banks all round. By that time +they were thoroughly dazed, and there they would have stayed until they were +roasted. Sheep are stupid brutes at any time, but in smoke they’re just +idiots! +</p> + +<p> +“Norah gave only one look. Then she slipped off Bobs and left him to look +after himself, and she tore down into the gully.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Jim, go on!” said Wally. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going,” said Jim affably. +</p> + +<p> +“Dad gave one shout as Norah disappeared into the gully. ‘Go back, +my darling!’ he yelled, forgetting that he was so far off that he might +as well have shouted to the moon. Then he gave a groan, and dug his spurs into +Bosun. I had mine as far as they’d go in Sirdar already! +</p> + +<p> +“The smoke rolled on up the gully and in a minute it had covered it all +up. I thought it was all up with Norah, too, and old Burrows behind me was +sobbing for all he was worth. We raced and tore and yelled! +</p> + +<p> +“Then we saw a sheep coming up out of the smoke at the end of the gully. +Another followed, and another, and then more, until every blessed one of the +twenty was there (though we didn’t stop to count ’em then, I can +tell you!) Last of all—it just seemed years—came Norah! +</p> + +<p> +“We could hear her shouting at the sheep before we saw her. They were +terribly hard to move. She banged them with sticks, and the last old ram she +fairly kicked up the hill. They were just out of the gully when the fire roared +up it, and a minute or so after that we got to her. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor little kid; she was just black, and nearly blind with the smoke. It +was making her cry like fun,” said Jim, quite unconscious of his +inappropriate simile. “I don’t know if it was smoke in his case, +but so was Dad. We put the fire out quick enough; it was easy work to keep it +in the gully. Indeed, Dad never looked at the fire, or the sheep either. He +just jumped off Bosun, and picked Norah up and held her as if she was a baby, +and she hugged and hugged him. They’re awfully fond of each other, Dad +and Norah.” +</p> + +<p> +“And were the sheep all right?” Harry asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Right as rain; not one of the black-faced beauties singed. It was a +pretty close thing, you know,” Jim said reminiscently. “The fire +was just up to Norah as she got the last sheep up the hill; there was a hole +burnt in the leg of her riding skirt. She told me afterwards she made up her +mind she was going to die down in that beastly hole.” +</p> + +<p> +“My word, you must have been jolly proud of her!” Wally exclaimed. +“Such a kid, too!” +</p> + +<p> +“I guess we were pretty proud,” Jim said quietly. “All the +people about made no end of a fuss about her, but Norah never seemed to think a +pennyworth about it. Fact is, her only thought at first was that Dad would +think she had broken her promise to him. She looked up at him in the first few +minutes, with her poor, swollen old eyes. ‘I didn’t forget my +promise, Dad, dear,’ she said. ‘I never touched the fire—only +chased your silly old sheep!’” +</p> + +<p> +“Was that the end of the fire?” Harry asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, nearly. Of course we had to watch the burning logs and stumps for +a few days, until all danger of more fires was over, and if there’d been +a high wind in that time we might have had trouble. Luckily there wasn’t +any wind at all, and three days after there came a heavy fall of rain, which +made everything safe. We lost about two hundred and fifty acres of grass, but +in no time the paddock was green again, and the fire only did it good in the +long run. We reckoned ourselves uncommonly lucky over the whole thing, though +if Norah hadn’t saved the Shropshires we’d have had to sing a +different tune. Dad said he’d never shut up so much money in one small +paddock again!” +</p> + +<p> +Jim bobbed his float up and down despairingly. +</p> + +<p> +“This is the most fishless creek!” he said. “Well, the only +thing left to tell you is where the swagman came in.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, by Jove,” Harry said, “I forgot the swaggie.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was it his fault the fire started?” inquired Wally. +</p> + +<p> +“Rather! He camped under a bridge on the road that forms our boundary the +night Dad cleared him off the place, and the next morning, very early, he +deliberately lit our grass in three places, and then made off. He’d have +got away, too, and nobody would have known anything about it, if it +hadn’t been for Len Morrison. You chaps haven’t met Len, have you? +He’s a jolly nice fellow, older than me, I guess he’s about sixteen +now—perhaps seventeen. +</p> + +<p> +“Len had a favourite cow, a great pet of his. He’d petted her as a +calf and she’d follow him about like a dog. This cow was sick—they +found her down in the paddock and couldn’t move her, so they doctored her +where she was. Len was awfully worried about her, and used to go to her late at +night and first thing in the morning. +</p> + +<p> +“He went out to the cow on this particular morning about daylight. She +was dead and so he didn’t stay; and he was riding back when he saw the +swag-man lighting our grass. It was most deliberately done. Len didn’t go +after him then. He galloped up to his own place and gave the alarm, and then he +and one of their men cleared out after the brute.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did they catch him?” Wally’s eyes were dancing, and his +sinker waved unconsciously in the air. +</p> + +<p> +“They couldn’t see a sign of him,” Jim said. “The road +was a plain, straight one—you chaps know it—the one we drove home +on from the train. No cover anywhere that would hide so much as a +goat—not even you, Wal! They followed it up for a couple of miles, and +then saw that he must have gone across country somewhere. There was mighty +little cover there, either. The only possible hiding-place was along the creek. +</p> + +<p> +“He was pretty cunning—my word, he was! He’d started up the +road—Len had seen him—and then he cut over the paddock at an angle, +back to the creek. That was why they couldn’t find any tracks when they +started up the creek from the road, and they made sure he had given them the +slip altogether. +</p> + +<p> +“Len and the other fellow, a chap called Sam Baker, pegged away up the +creek as hard as they could go, but feeling pretty blue about catching the +swaggie. Len was particularly wild, because he’d made so certain he could +lay his hands on the fellow, and if he hadn’t been sure, of course +he’d have stayed to help at the fire, and he didn’t like being done +out of everything! They could understand not finding any tracks. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Of course it’s possible he’s walked in the +water,’ Baker said. +</p> + +<p> +“‘We’d have caught him by now if he had,’ Len +said—‘he couldn’t get along quickly in the water. Anyhow, if +I don’t see anything of him before we get to the next bend, I’m +going back to the fire.’ +</p> + +<p> +“They were nearly up to the bend, and Len was feeling desperate, when he +saw a boot-mark half-way down the bank on the other side. He was over like a +shot—the creek was very shallow—and there were tracks as plain as +possible, leading down to the water! +</p> + +<p> +“You can bet they went on then! +</p> + +<p> +“They caught him a bit farther up. He heard them coming, and left his +swag, so’s he could get on quicker. They caught that first, and then they +caught him. He had ‘planted’ in a clump of scrub, and they nearly +passed him, but Len caught sight of him, and they had him in a minute.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did he come easily?” asked Wally. +</p> + +<p> +“Rather not! He sent old Len flying—gave him an awful black eye. +Len was, up again and at him like a shot, and I reckon it was jolly plucky of a +chap of Len’s age, and I dare say he’d have had an awful hiding if +Sam hadn’t arrived on the scene. Sam is a big, silent chap, and he can +fight anybody in this district. He landed the swaggie first with one fist and +then with the other, and the swaggie reckoned he’d been struck by a +thunderbolt when they fished him out of the creek, where he had rolled! You +see, Sam’s very fond of Len, and it annoyed him to see his eye. +</p> + +<p> +“The swaggie did not do any more resisting. He was like a half-dead, +drowned rat. Len and Sam brought him up to the men at the fire just after +we’d left to try to save Dad’s Shropshires, and they and Mr. +Morrison could hardly keep the men off him. He hid behind Sam, and cried and +begged them to protect him. They said it was beastly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Rather!” said Harry. “Where’s he now?” +</p> + +<p> +“Melbourne Gaol. He got three years,” said Jim. “I guess +he’s reflecting on the foolishness of using matches too freely!” +</p> + +<p> +“By George!” said Wally, drawing a deep breath. “That was +exciting, Jimmy!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, fishing isn’t,” responded Jim pulling up his hook in +disgust, an example followed by the other boys. “What’ll we +do?” +</p> + +<p> +“I move,” said Wally, standing on one leg on the log, “that +this meeting do adjourn from this dead tree. And I move a hearty vote of thanks +to Mr. Jim Linton for spinning a good yarn. Thanks to be paid immediately. +There’s mine, Jimmy!” +</p> + +<p> +A resounding pat on the back startled Jim considerably, followed as it was by a +second from Harry. The assaulted one fled along the log, and hurled mud +furiously from the bank. The enemy followed closely, and shortly the painful +spectacle might have been seen of a host lying flat on his face on the grass, +while his guests, sitting on his back, bumped up and down to his extreme +discomfort and the tune of “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"></a> +CHAPTER VII.<br/> +WHAT NORAH FOUND</h2> + +<p> +Norah, meanwhile, had been feeling somewhat “out of things.” It was +really more than human nature could be expected to bear that she should remain +on the log with the three boys, while Jim told amazing yarns about her. Still +it was decidedly lonesome in the jutting root of the old tree, looking fixedly +at the water, in which placidly lay a float that had apparently forgotten that +the first duty of a float is to bob. +</p> + +<p> +Jim’s voice, murmuring along in his lengthy recital, came to her softly, +and she could see from her perch the interested faces of the two others. It +mingled drowsily with the dull drone of bees in the ti-tree behind her, and +presently Norah, to her disgust, found that she was growing drowsy too. +</p> + +<p> +“This won’t do!” she reflected, shaking herself. “If I +go to sleep and tumble off this old root I’ll startle away all the fish +in the creek.” She looked doubtfully at the still water, now and then +rippled by the splash of a leaping fish. “No good when they jump like +that,” said Norah to herself. “I guess I’ll go and +explore.” +</p> + +<p> +She wound up her line quickly, and flung her bait to the lazy inhabitants of +the creek as a parting gift. Then, unnoticed by the boys, she scrambled out of +the tree and climbed up the bank, getting her blue riding-skirt decidedly +muddy—not that Norah’s free and independent soul had ever learned +to tremble at the sight of muddy garments. She hid her fishing tackle in a +stump, and made her way along the bank. +</p> + +<p> +A little farther up she came across black Billy—a very cheerful +aboriginal, seeing that he had managed to induce no less than nine blackfish to +leave their watery bed. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I say!” said Norah, round-eyed and envious. “How do you +manage it, Billy? We can’t catch one.” +</p> + +<p> +Billy grinned. He was a youth of few words. +</p> + +<p> +“Plenty bob-um float,” he explained lucidly. “Easy +’nuff. You try.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, thanks,” said Norah, though she hesitated for a moment. +“I’m sick of trying—and I’ve no luck. Going to cook +’em for dinner, Billy?” +</p> + +<p> +“Plenty!” assented Billy vigorously. It was his favourite word, and +meant almost anything, and he rarely used another when he could make it +suffice. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a good boy,” said Norah, approvingly, and black +eighteen grinned from ear to ear with pleasure at the praise of twelve-year-old +white. “I’m going for a walk, Billy. Tell Master Jim to coo-ee when +lunch is ready.” +</p> + +<p> +“Plenty,” said Billy intelligently. +</p> + +<p> +Norah turned from the creek and entered the scrub. She loved the bush, and was +never happier than when exploring its recesses. A born bushmaid, she had never +any difficulty about finding her way in the scrub, or of retracing her steps. +The faculty of bushmanship must be born in you; if you have it not naturally, +training very rarely gives it. +</p> + +<p> +She rambled on aimlessly, noting, though scarcely conscious that she did so, +the bush sights and scenes on either hand—clinging creepers and twining +plants, dainty ferns, nestling in hollow trees, clusters of maidenhair under +logs; pheasants that hopped noiselessly in the shade, and a wallaby track in +some moist, soft earth. Once she saw a carpet snake lying coiled in a tussock +and, springing for a stick, she ran at it, but the snake was too quick for her +and she was only in time to hit at its tail as it whisked down a hole. Norah +wandered on, feeling disgusted with herself. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly she stopped in amazement. +</p> + +<p> +She was on the edge of a small clear space, at the farther side of which was a +huge blue-gum tree. Tall trees ringed it round, and the whole space was in deep +shade. Norah stood rooted to the ground in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +For at the foot of the big blue-gum was a strange sight, in that lonely place. +It was nothing more or less than a small tent. +</p> + +<p> +The flap of the tent was down, and there were no inhabitants to be seen; but +all about were signs of occupation. A well-blackened billy hung from the +ridge-pole. Close to the tent was a heap of dry sticks, and a little farther +away the ashes of a fire still smouldered, and over them a blackened bough, +supported by two forked sticks, showed that the billy had many times been +boiled there. The little camp was all very neat and tidy. “It looks quite +home-like,” said Norah to herself. +</p> + +<p> +As she watched, the flap of the tent was raised, and a very old man came out. +He was so tall that he had to bend almost double in stooping under the canvas +of the low tent. A queer old man, Norah thought him, as she drew back +instinctively into the shadow of the trees. When he straightened himself he was +wonderfully tall—taller even than Dad, who was over six feet. He wore no +hat, and his hair and beard were very long, and as white as snow. Under bushy +white eyebrows, a pair of bright blue eyes twinkled. Norah decided that they +were nice eyes. +</p> + +<p> +But he certainly was queer. His clothes would hardly have passed muster in +Collins Street, and would even have attracted attention in Cunjee. He was +dressed entirely in skins—wallaby skins, Norah guessed, though there was +an occasional section that looked like ’possum. They didn’t look +bad, either, she thought—a kind of sleeved waistcoat, and loose trousers, +that were met at the knee by roughly-tanned gaiters, or leggings. Still, the +whole effect was startling. +</p> + +<p> +The old man walked across to his fire and, kneeling down, carefully raked away +the ashes. Then he drew out a damper—Norah had never seen one before, but +she knew immediately that it was a damper. It looked good, too—nicely +risen, and brown, and it sent forth a fragrance that was decidedly appetizing. +The old man looked pleased “Not half bad!” he said aloud, in a +wonderfully deep voice, which sounded so amazing in the bush silence that Norah +fairly jumped. +</p> + +<p> +The old man raked the ashes together again, and placed some sticks on them, +after which he brought over the billy, and hung it above the fire to boil. The +fire quickly broke into a blaze, and he picked up the damper again, and walked +slowly back to the tent, where he paused to blow the dust from the result of +his cookery. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment Norah became oppressed with a wild desire to sneeze. She fought +against it frantically, nearly choking in her efforts to remain silent, while +she wildly explored in her pockets for a nonexistent handkerchief. +</p> + +<p> +As the water bursts from the dam the more violently because of its +imprisonment, so Norah’s sneeze gained intensity and uproar from her +efforts to repress it. It came— +</p> + +<p> +“A—tish—oo—oo!” +</p> + +<p> +The old man started violently. He dropped his damper and gazed round. +</p> + +<p> +“What on earth’s that?” he said. “Who’s +there?” For a moment Norah hesitated. Should she run for her life? But a +second’s thought showed her no real reason why she should run. She was +not in the least frightened, for it never occurred to Norah that anyone could +wish to hurt her; and she had done nothing to make him angry. So she modestly +emerged from behind a friendly tree and said meekly, “It’s +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“‘Me’, is it?” said the old man, in great astonishment. +He stared hard at the little figure in the blue blouse and serge +riding-skirt—at the merry face and the dark curls crowned by the shady +Panama hat. “‘Me’,” he repeated. +“‘Me’ looks rather nice, I think. But what’s she doing +here?” +</p> + +<p> +“I was looking at you,” Norah exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t be unpolite enough to mention that a cat may look at a +king,” said the old man. “But don’t you know that no one +comes here? No young ladies in blue dresses and brown curls—only wombats +and wallabies, and ring-tailed ’possums—and me. Not you—me, +but me—me! How do you account for being here?” +</p> + +<p> +Norah laughed. She decided that she liked this very peculiar old man, whose +eyes twinkled so brightly as he spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“But I don’t think you know,” she said. “Quite a lot of +other people come here—this is Anglers’ Bend. At least, +Anglers’ Bend’s quite close to your camp. Why, only, to-day +there’s Jim and the boys, and black Billy, and me! We’re not +wallabies!” +</p> + +<p> +“Jim—and the boys—and black Billy—and me!” echoed +the old man faintly. “Angels and ministers of grace, defend us! And I +thought I had found the back of beyond, where I would never see anyone more +civilized than a bunyip! But—I’ve been here for three months, +little lady, and have never come across anyone. Are you sure you’re quite +serious?” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite,” Norah answered. “Perhaps it was that no one came +across you, you know, because people really do come here to fish. Dad and I +camp here sometimes, but we haven’t been for more than three +months.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I must move, that’s all,” said the old man. “I +do like quiet—it’s annoying enough to have to dress up and go into +a township now and then for stores. How do you like my clothes, by the way? I +may as well have a feminine opinion while I have the chance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you make them yourself?” asked Norah. +</p> + +<p> +“Behold how she fences!” said the old man. “I did +indeed!” +</p> + +<p> +“Then they do you proud!” said Norah solemnly. +</p> + +<p> +The old man laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall prize your expression of opinion,” he said. “May I +ask the name of my visitor?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m Norah. Please who are you?” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a different matter,” said the other, looking +nonplussed. “I certainly had a name once, but I’ve quite forgotten +it. I have an excellent memory for forgetting. Would you think I was a bunyip? +I’d be delighted if you could!” +</p> + +<p> +“I couldn’t.” Norah shook her head. “But I’ll +tell you what I think you are.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do.” +</p> + +<p> +“A hermit!” +</p> + +<p> +The old man’s face cleared. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Miss Norah,” he said, “you’ve made a profound +discovery. I am—I am—a hermit! Thank you very much. Being a hermit +my resources are scanty, but may I hope that you will have lunch with me? +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t, I’m afraid,” said Norah, looking +affectionately at the damper. “The boys will be looking for me, if I +don’t go back. Listen—there’s Jim coo-eeing now!” +</p> + +<p> +“And who may Jim be?” queried the Hermit, a trifle uneasily. +</p> + +<p> +“Jim’s my brother,” Norah said. “He’s fifteen, +and he’s just splendid. Harry and Wally are his two chums.” +</p> + +<p> +“Coo-ee! Coo-ee!” +</p> + +<p> +Norah answered the call quickly and turned to the Hermit, feeling a little +apologetic. +</p> + +<p> +“I had to call,” she explained—“Jim would be anxious. +They want me for lunch.” She hesitated. “Won’t you come +too?” she asked timidly. +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t eaten with my fellow-men for more time than I’d +care to reckon,” said the Hermit. “I don’t know—will +they let me alone afterwards? Are they ordinary abominable boys?” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, they’re not!” said Norah indignantly. “They +won’t come near you at all, if you don’t want them—but I know +they’d be pleased if you came. Do!” +</p> + +<p> +“Coo-ee!” +</p> + +<p> +“Jim’s getting impatient, isn’t he?” said the Hermit. +“Well, Miss Norah, if you’ll excuse my attire I’ll come. +Shall I bring my damper?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, please!” Norah cried. “We’ve never tasted +damper.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish <i>I</i> hadn’t,” said the Hermit grimly. He picked +up the fallen cake. “Let us away!” he said. “The banquet +waits!” +</p> + +<p> +During their walk through the scrub it occurred to Norah once or twice to +wonder if her companion were really a little mad. He said such extraordinary +things, all in the most matter-of-fact tone—but when she looked up at him +his blue eyes twinkled so kindly and merrily that she knew at once he was all +right, and she was quite certain that she liked him very much. +</p> + +<p> +The boys were getting impatient. Lunch was ready, and when lunch has been +prepared by Mrs. Brown, and supplemented by fresh blackfish, fried over a camp +fire by black Billy, it is not a meal to be kept waiting. They were grouped +round the table-cloth, in attitudes more suggestive of ease than elegance, when +Norah and her escort appeared, and for once their manners deserted them. They +gaped in silent amazement. +</p> + +<p> +“Boys, this is The Hermit,” said Norah, rather nervously. +“I—I found him. He has a camp. He’s come to lunch.” +</p> + +<p> +“I must apologize for my intrusion, I’m afraid,” the Hermit +said. “Miss Norah was good enough to ask me to come. I—I’ve +brought my damper!” +</p> + +<p> +He exhibited the article half shyly, and the boys recovered themselves and +laughed uncontrollably. Jim sprang to his feet. The Hermit’s first words +had told him that this was no common swagman that Norah had picked up. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m very glad to see you, sir,” he said, holding out his +hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” said the Hermit gravely. “You’re Jim, +aren’t you? And I conclude that this gentleman is Harry, and this Wally? +Ah, I thought so. Yes, I haven’t seen so many people for ages. And black +Billy! How are you Billy?” +</p> + +<p> +Billy retreated in great embarrassment. +</p> + +<p> +“Plenty!” he murmured. +</p> + +<p> +Everybody laughed again. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” Jim said, “we’re hungry, Norah. I hope you +and—er—this gentleman are.” Jim was concealing his +bewilderment like a hero. “Won’t you sit down and sample +Billy’s blackfish? He caught ’em all—we couldn’t raise +a bite between us—barring Wally’s boot!” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you catch a boot?” queried the Hermit of the blushing Wally. +“Mine, I think—I can’t congratulate you on your luck! If you +like, after lunch, I’ll show you a place where you could catch fish, if +you only held the end of your finger in the water!” +</p> + +<p> +“Good enough!” said Jim. “Thanks, awfully—we’ll +be jolly glad. Come on, Billy—trot out your frying-pan!” +</p> + +<p> +Lunch began rather silently. +</p> + +<p> +In their secret hearts the boys were rather annoyed with Norah. +</p> + +<p> +“Why on earth,” Jim reflected, “couldn’t she have left +the old chap alone? The party was all right without him—we didn’t +want any one else—least of all an odd oddity like this.” And though +the other boys were loyal to Norah, she certainly suffered a fall in their +estimation, and was classed for the moment with the usual run of “girls +who do rummy things.” +</p> + +<p> +However, the Hermit was a man of penetration and soon realized the state of the +social barometer. His hosts, who did not look at all like quiet boys, were +eating their blackfish in perfect silence, save for polite requests for bread +or pepper, or the occasional courteous remark, “Chuck us the salt!” +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly the Hermit exerted himself to please, and it would really have +taken more than three crabby boys to resist him. He told the drollest stories, +which sent everyone into fits of laughter, although he never laughed himself at +all; and he talked about the bush, and told them of the queer animals he +saw—having, as he said, unusually good opportunities for watching the +bush inhabitants unseen. He knew where the lyrebirds danced, and had often +crept silently through the scrub until he could command a view of the mound +where these strange birds strutted and danced, and mimicked the other birds +with life-like fidelity. He loved the birds very much, and never killed any of +them, even when a pair of thievish magpies attacked his larder and pecked a +damper into little bits when he was away fishing. Many of the birds were tame +with him now, he said; they would hop about the camp and let him feed them; and +he had a carpet snake that was quite a pet, which he offered to show +them—an offer that broke down the last tottering barriers of the +boys’ reserve. Then there were his different methods of trapping animals, +some of which were strange even to Jim, who was a trapper of much renown. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you get lonely sometimes?” Norah asked him. +</p> + +<p> +The Hermit looked at her gravely. +</p> + +<p> +“Sometimes,” he said. “Now and then one feels that one would +give something to hear a human voice again, and to feel a friend’s +hand-grip. Oh, there are times, Miss Norah, when I talk to myself—which +is bad—or yarn to old Turpentine, my snake, just to hear the sound of +words again. However, when these bad fits come upon me I know it’s a sign +that I must get the axe and go and chop down sufficient trees to make me tired. +Then I go to sleep, and wake up quite a cheerful being once more!” +</p> + +<p> +He hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“And there’s one thing,” he said slowly—“though +it may be lonely here, there is no one to trouble you; no one to treat you +badly, to be ungrateful or malicious; no bitter enemies, and no false friends, +who are so much worse than enemies. The birds come and hop about me, and I know +that it is because I like them and have never frightened them; old Turpentine +slides his ugly head over my knees, and I know he doesn’t care a button +whether I have any money in my pocket, or whether I have to go out into the +scrub to find my next meal! And that’s far, far more than you can say of +most human beings!” +</p> + +<p> +He looked round on their grave faces, and smiled for the first time. +</p> + +<p> +“This is uncommonly bad behaviour in a guest,” he said cheerily. +“To come to lunch, and regale one’s host and hostess with a sermon! +It’s too bad. I ask your forgiveness, young people, and please forget all +I said immediately. No, Miss Norah, I won’t have any damper, thank +you—after a three months’ course of damper one looks with joy once +more on bread. If Wally will favour me—I think the correct phrase is will +you ‘chuck me the butter?’”—whereat Wally +“chucked” as desired, and the meal proceeded merrily. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"></a> +CHAPTER VIII.<br/> +ON A LOG</h2> + +<p> +Lunch over, everyone seemed disinclined for action. The boys lay about on the +grass, sleepily happy. Norah climbed into a tree, where the gnarled boughs made +a natural arm-chair, and the Hermit propped his back against a rock and smoked +a short black pipe with an air of perfect enjoyment. It was just hot enough to +make one drowsy. Bees droned lazily, and from some shady gully the shrill note +of a cricket came faintly to the ear. Only Billy had stolen down to the creek, +to tempt the fish once more. They heard the dull “plunk” of his +sinker as he flung it into a deep, still pool. +</p> + +<p> +“Would you like to hear how I lost my boot?” queried the Hermit +suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, please,” said Norah. +</p> + +<p> +The boys rolled over—that is to say Jim and Wally rolled over. Harry was +fast asleep. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t wake him,” said the Hermit. But Wally’s hat, +skilfully thrown, had already caught the slumberer on the side of the head. +</p> + +<p> +Harry woke up with surprising promptness, and returned the offending head-gear +with force and directness. Wally caught it deftly and rammed it over his eyes. +He smiled underneath it at the Hermit like a happy cherub. +</p> + +<p> +“Now we’re ready, sir,” he said. “Hold your row, Harry, +the—this gentleman’s going to spin us a yarn. Keep awake if you can +spare the time!” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll spare the time to kick you!” growled the indignant +Harry. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know that you’ll think it’s much of a +yarn,” the Hermit said hurriedly, entering the breach to endeavour to +allay further discussion—somewhat to Jim’s disappointment. +“It’s only the story of a pretty narrow escape. +</p> + +<p> +“I had gone out fishing one afternoon about a month ago. It was a grand +day for fishing—dull and cloudy. The sun was about somewhere, but you +couldn’t see anything of him, although you could feel his warmth. +I’d been off colour for a few days, and had not been out foraging at all, +and as a result, except for damper, my larder was quite empty. +</p> + +<p> +“I went about a mile upstream. There’s a splendid place for fishing +there. The creek widens, and there’s a still, deep pool, something like +the pool at the place you call Anglers’ Bend, only I think mine is deeper +and stiller, and fishier! At all events, I have never failed to get fish there. +</p> + +<p> +“I fished from the bank for a while, with not very good luck. At all +events, it occurred to me that I could better it if I went out upon a big log +that lay right across the creek—a tremendous tree it must have been, +judging by the size of the trunk. You could almost ride across it, it’s +so wide—if you had a circus pony, that is,” added the Hermit with a +twinkle. +</p> + +<p> +“So I gathered up my tackle, hung the fish I’d caught across a +bough in the shade, and went out on the log, and here I had good luck at once. +The fish bit just as soon as I put the bait into the water, and though a good +many of them were small there were some very decent-sized ones amongst them. I +threw the little chaps back, on the principle that— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Baby fish you throw away<br/> +Will make good sport another day, +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +and at last began to think I had caught nearly enough, even though I intended +to salt some. However, just as I thought it was time to strike for camp, I had +a tremendous bite. It nearly jerked the rod out of my hands! +</p> + +<p> +“‘Hallo!’ I said to myself, ‘here’s a +whale!’ I played him for a bit, for he was the strongest fish I ever had +on a line in this country, and at last he began to tire, and I reeled the line +in. It seemed quite a long time before I caught a glimpse of his +lordship—a tremendous perch. I tell you I felt quite proud as his head +came up out of the water. +</p> + +<p> +“He was nearly up to the log, when he made a sudden, last leap in the +air, and the quickness of it and his weight half threw me off my balance. I +made a hurried step on the log, and my right foot slipped into a huge, gaping +crack. It was only after I had made two or three ineffectual struggles to +release it that I found I was stuck. +</p> + +<p> +“Well I didn’t realize the seriousness of the position for a few +minutes,” the Hermit went on. “I could understand that I was +wedged, but I certainly never dreamed that I could not, by dint of manoeuvring, +wriggle my foot out of the crack. So I turned my attention to my big fish, +and—standing in a most uncomfortable position—managed to land him; +and a beauty he was, handsome as paint, with queer markings on his sides. I put +him down carefully, and then tried to free myself. +</p> + +<p> +“And I tried—and tried—and tried—until I was tired out, +and stiff and hopeless. By that time it was nearly dark. After I had +endeavoured unsuccessfully to get the boot clear, I unlaced it, and tried to +get my foot out of it—but I was in a trifle too far for that, and try as +I would I could not get it free. The crack was rather on the side of the log. I +could not get a straight pull. Hurt? Yes, of course it hurt—not more from +the pinching of the log, which you may try any time by screwing your foot up in +a vice, than from my own wild efforts to get clear. My foot and ankle were +stiff and sore from my exertions long before I knocked off in despair. I might +have tried to cut the wood away, had I not left my knife on the bank, where I +was fishing first. I don’t know that it would have done much good, +anyhow. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I looked at the situation—in fact, I had been looking at it +all the time. It wasn’t a very cheering prospect, either. The more I +pondered over it, the less chance I saw of getting free. I had done all I could +towards that end; now it only remained to wait for something to ‘turn +up.’ And I was quite aware that nothing was in the least likely to turn +up, and also that in all probability I would wear out some time before the log +did. +</p> + +<p> +“Night came on, and I was as hungry as a hunter—being a hunter, I +knew just how hungry that is. I hadn’t anything to eat except raw fish, +and I wasn’t quite equal to that yet. I had only one pipe of tobacco too, +and you may be sure I made the most of that, I smoked it very, very slowly, and +I wouldn’t like to say how long it lasted. +</p> + +<p> +“From time to time I made fresh attempts to release my foot—all +unavailing, and all the more maddening because I could feel that my foot +wasn’t much caught—only just enough to hold it. But enough is as +good as a feast! I felt that if I could get a straight pull at it I might get +it out, and several times I nearly went head first into the water, +overbalancing myself in the effort to get that straight pull. That wasn’t +a pleasant sensation—not so bad, indeed, if one had got as far as the +water. But I pictured myself hanging from the log with a dislocated ankle, and +the prospect was not inviting. +</p> + +<p> +“So the night crept on. I grew deadly sleepy, but of course I did not +care to let myself go to sleep; but worse than that was the stiffness, and the +cramp that tortured the imprisoned leg. You know how you want to jump when +you’ve got cramp? Well, I wanted to jump at intervals of about a minute +all through that night, and instead, I was more securely hobbled than any old +horse I ever saw. The mosquitoes worried me too. Altogether it was not the sort +of entertainment you would select from choice! +</p> + +<p> +“And then, just as day began to dawn, the sleepiness got the better of +me. I fought it unavailingly; but at last I knew I could keep awake no longer, +and I shut my eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know how long I slept—it couldn’t have been +for any time, for it was not broad daylight when I opened my eyes again. +Besides, the circumstances weren’t the kind to induce calm and peaceful +slumber. +</p> + +<p> +“I woke up with a start, and in my dreams I seemed to hear myself crying +out with pain—for a spasm of cramp had seized me, and it was like a +red-hot iron thrust up my leg. I was only half awake—not realizing my +position a bit. I made a sudden spring, and the next moment off I went, +headlong! +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t suppose,” said the Hermit reflectively, poking a +stem of grass down his pipe, “that I’ll ever lose the memory of the +sudden, abject terror of that moment. They say ‘as easy as falling off a +log,’ and it certainly doesn’t take an able-bodied man long to fall +off one, as a rule; but it seemed to me that I was hours and years waiting for +the jerk to come on my imprisoned foot. I’m sure I lived through half a +lifetime before it really came. +</p> + +<p> +“Then it came—and I hardly felt it! There was just a sudden +pull—scarcely enough to hurt very much, and the old boot yielded. Sole +from upper, it came clean away, and the pressure on my foot alone wasn’t +enough to hold me. It was so unexpected that I didn’t realize I was free +until I struck the water, and went down right into the mud at the bottom of the +creek. +</p> + +<p> +“That woke me up, I can assure you. I came up choking and spluttering, +and blinded with the mud—I wouldn’t like to tell you for a moment +that it was pleasant, but I can truthfully say I never was more relieved in my +life. I struck out for the bank, and got out of the water, and then sat down on +the grass and wondered why on earth I hadn’t made up my mind to jump off +that log before. +</p> + +<p> +“I hadn’t any boot left—the remainder had been kicked off as +I swam ashore. I made my way along the log that had held me so fast all night, +and there, wedged as tight as ever in the crack, was my old sole! It’s +there still—unless the mosquitoes have eaten it. I limped home with my +fish, cleaned them, had a meal and went to bed—and I didn’t get up +until next day, either! +</p> + +<p> +“And so, Mr. Wally, I venture to think that it was my boot that you +landed this morning,” the Hermit said gravely. “I don’t +grudge it to you; I can’t say I ever wish to see it again. +You”—magnanimously—“may have it for your very +own!” +</p> + +<p> +“But I chucked it back again!” blurted out Wally, amidst a roar of +laughter from Jim and Harry at his dismayed face. +</p> + +<p> +“I forgive you!” said the Hermit, joining in the laugh. “I +admit it was a relic which didn’t advertise its own fame.” +</p> + +<p> +“I guess you’d never want to see it again,” Jim said. +“That was a pretty narrow escape—if your foot had been in just a +bit farther you might have been hanging from that old log now!” +</p> + +<p> +“That was my own idea all that night,” observed the Hermit; +“and then Wally wouldn’t have caught any more than the rest of you +this morning! And that reminds me, I promised to show you a good fishing-place. +Don’t you think, if you’ve had enough of my prosy yarning, that +we’d better make a start?” +</p> + +<p> +The party gathered itself up with alacrity from the grass. Lines were hurriedly +examined, and the bait tin, when investigated, proved to contain an ample +supply of succulent grubs and other dainties calculated to tempt the most +fastidious of fish. +</p> + +<p> +“All ready?” said the Hermit. +</p> + +<p> +“Hold on a minute,” Jim said. “I’ll let Billy know +where we’re going.” +</p> + +<p> +Billy was found fishing stolidly from a log. Three blackfish testified to his +skill with the rod, at which Wally whistled disgustedly and Norah laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“No good to be jealous of Billy’s luck,” she said. “He +can always get fish, when nobody else can find even a nibble. Mrs. Brown says +he’s got the light hand like hers for pastry.” +</p> + +<p> +The Hermit laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“I like Mrs. Brown’s simile,” he said. “If that was her +pastry in those turnovers at lunch, Miss Norah, I certainly agree that she has +‘the light hand.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Brown’s like the cook in <i>The Ingoldsby Legends</i>, Dad +says,” Norah remarked. +</p> + +<p> +“What,” said the Hermit— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“For soups and stews, and French ragouts,<br/> +Nell Cook is famous still—?”<br/> +“She’d make them even of old shoes<br/> +She had such wondrous skill!” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +finished Norah delightedly. “However did you know, Mr. Hermit?” +</p> + +<p> +The Hermit laughed, but a shade crossed his brow. “I used to read the +<i>Legends</i> with a dear old friend many years before you were born, Miss +Norah,” he said gravely. “I often wonder whether he still reads +them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ready?” Jim interrupted, springing up the bank. “Billy +understands about feeding the ponies. Don’t forget, mind, Billy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Plenty!” quoth Billy, and the party went on its way. The Hermit +led them rapidly over logs and fallen trees, up and down gullies, and through +tangles of thickly growing scrub. Once or twice it occurred to Jim that they +were trusting very confidingly to this man, of whom they knew absolutely +nothing; and a faint shade of uneasiness crossed his mind. He felt responsible, +as the eldest of the youngsters, knowing that his father had placed him in +charge, and that he was expected to exercise a certain amount of caution. Still +it was hard to fancy anything wrong, looking at the Hermit’s serene face, +and the trusting way in which Norah’s brown little hand was placed in his +strong grasp. The other boys were quite unconscious of any uncomfortable ideas, +and Jim finally dismissed his fears as uncalled for. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought,” said the Hermit, suddenly turning, “of taking +you to see my camp as we went, but on second thoughts I decided that it would +be better to get straight to work, as you young people want some fish, I +suppose, to take home. Perhaps we can look in at my camp as we come back. +It’s not far from here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which way do you generally go to the river?” Norah asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, anyway,” the Hermit answered. “Generally in this +direction. Why do you ask, Miss Norah?” +</p> + +<p> +“I was wondering,” Norah said. “We haven’t crossed or +met a single track.” +</p> + +<p> +The Hermit laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he said, “I take very good care not to leave tracks if +I can avoid it. You see, I’m a solitary fellow, Miss Norah, and prefer, +as a rule, to keep to myself. Apart from that, I often leave camp for the +greater part of the day when I’m fishing or hunting, and I’ve no +wish to point out the way to my domain to any wanderers. Not that I’ve +much to lose, still there are some things. Picture my harrowed feelings were I +to return some evening and find my beloved frying-pan gone!” +</p> + +<p> +Norah laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“It would be awful,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“So I planned my camp very cunningly,” continued the Hermit, +“and I can tell you it took some planning to contrive it so that it +shouldn’t be too easily visible.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it isn’t from the side I came on it,” Norah put in; +“I never dreamed of anything being there until I was right on the camp. +It did surprise me!” +</p> + +<p> +“And me,” said the Hermit drily. “Well that is how I tried to +arrange camp, and you could be within a dozen yards of it on any side without +imagining that any was near.” +</p> + +<p> +“But surely you must have made some sort of a track leading away from +it,” said Jim, “unless you fly out!” +</p> + +<p> +The Hermit laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll show you later how I manage that,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +The bush grew denser as the little party, led by the Hermit, pushed along, and +Jim was somewhat surprised at the easy certainty with which their guide led the +way, since there was no sign of a track. Being a silent youth, he held his +tongue on the matter; but Wally was not so reserved. +</p> + +<p> +“However d’you find your way along here?” he asked. “I +don’t even know whether we’re near the creek or not.” +</p> + +<p> +“If we kept still a moment you’d know,” the Hermit said. +“Listen!” He held up his hand and they all stood still. There came +faintly to their ears a musical splash of water. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a little waterfall just in there,” the Hermit said, +“nothing much, unless the creek is very low, and then there is a greater +drop for the water. So you see we haven’t got far from the creek. How do +I know the way? Why, I feel it mostly, and if I couldn’t feel it, there +are plenty of landmarks. Every big tree is as good as a signpost once you know +the way a bit, and I’ve been along here pretty often, so there’s +nothing in it, you see, Wally.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you like the bush, Mr. Hermit?” Norah asked. +</p> + +<p> +The Hermit hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“Sometimes I hate it, I think, Miss Norah,” he said, “when +the loneliness of it comes over me, and all the queer sounds of it bother me +and keep me awake. Then I realise that I’m really a good way from +anywhere, and I get what are familiarly called the blues. However, that’s +not at all times, and indeed mostly I love it very much, its great quietness +and its beauty; and then it’s so companionable, though perhaps +you’re a bit young to understand that. Anyhow, I have my mates, not only +old Turpentine, my snake, but others—wallabies that have come to +recognise me as harmless, for I never hunt anywhere near home, the laughing +jackasses, two of them, that come and guffaw to me every morning, the pheasants +that I watch capering and strutting on the logs hidden in the scrub. Even the +plants become friends; there are creepers near my camp that I’ve watched +from babyhood, and more than one big tree with which I’ve at least a +nodding acquaintance!” +</p> + +<p> +He broke off suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +“Look, there’s a friend of mine!” he said gently. They were +crossing a little gully, and a few yards on their right a big wallaby sat +staring at them, gravely inquisitive. It certainly would not have been human +nature if Jim had not longed for a gun; but the wallaby was evidently quite +ignorant of such a thing, and took them all in with his cool stare. At length +Wally sneezed violently, whereat the wallaby started, regarded the disturber of +his peace with an alarmed air, and finally bounded off into the scrub. +</p> + +<p> +“There you go!” said the Hermit good-humouredly, “scaring my +poor beastie out of his wits.” +</p> + +<p> +“Couldn’t help it,” mumbled Wally. +</p> + +<p> +“No, a sneeze will out, like truth, won’t it?” the Hermit +laughed. “That’s how Miss Norah announced herself to me to-day. I +might never have known she was there if she hadn’t obligingly sneezed! I +hope. you’re not getting colds, children!” the Hermit added, with +mock concern. +</p> + +<p> +“Not much!” said Wally and Norah in a breath. +</p> + +<p> +“Just after I came here,” said the Hermit, “I was pretty +short of tucker, and it wasn’t a good time for fishing, so I was +dependent on my gun for most of my provisions. So one day, feeling much annoyed +after a breakfast of damper and jam, I took the gun and went off to stock up +the larder. +</p> + +<p> +“I went a good way without any luck. There didn’t seem anything to +shoot in all the bush, though you may be sure I kept my eyes about me. I was +beginning to grow disheartened. At length I made my way down to the creek. Just +as I got near it, I heard a whirr-r-r over my head, and looking up, I saw a +flock of wild duck. They seemed to pause a moment, and then dropped downwards. +I couldn’t see where they alighted, but of course I knew it must be in +the creek. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I didn’t pause,” said the Hermit. “I just made +my way down to the creek as quickly as ever I could, remaining noiseless at the +same time. Ducks are easily scared, and I knew my hopes of dinner were poor if +these chaps saw me too soon. +</p> + +<p> +“So I sneaked down. Pretty soon I got a glimpse of the creek, which was +very wide at that point, and fringed with weeds. The ducks were calmly swimming +on its broad surface, a splendid lot of them, and I can assure you a very +tempting sight to a hungry man. +</p> + +<p> +“However, I didn’t waste time in admiration. I couldn’t very +well risk a shot from where I was, it was a bit too far, and the old gun I had +wasn’t very brilliant. So I crept along, crawled down a bank, and found +myself on a flat that ran to the water’s edge, where reeds, growing +thickly, screened me from the ducks’ sight. +</p> + +<p> +“That was simple enough. I crawled across this flat, taking no chances, +careless of mud, and wet, and sword grass, which isn’t the nicest thing +to crawl among at any time, as you can imagine; it’s absolutely merciless +to face and hands.” +</p> + +<p> +“And jolly awkward to stalk ducks in,” Jim commented, “the +rustle would give you away in no time.” +</p> + +<p> +The Hermit nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he said, “that’s its worst drawback, or was, on +this occasion. It certainly did rustle; however, I crept very slowly, and the +ducks were kind enough to think I was the wind stirring in the reeds. At any +rate, they went on swimming, and feeding quite peacefully. I got a good look at +them through the fringe of reeds, and then, like a duffer, although I had a +good enough position, I must try and get a better one. +</p> + +<p> +“So I crawled a little farther down the bank, trying to reach a knoll +which would give me a fine sight of the game, and at the same time form a +convenient rest for my gun. I had almost reached it when the sad thing +happened. A tall, spear-like reed, bending over, gently and intrusively tickled +my nose, and without the slightest warning, and very greatly to my own +amazement, I sneezed violently. +</p> + +<p> +“If I was amazed, what were the ducks! The sneeze was so unmistakably +human, so unspeakably violent. There was one wild whirr of wings, and my ducks +scrambled off the placid surface of the water like things possessed. I threw up +my gun and fired wildly; there was no time for deliberate taking of aim, with +the birds already half over the ti-tree at the other side.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you get any?” Jim asked. +</p> + +<p> +“One duck,” said the Hermit sadly. “And even for him I had to +swim; he obligingly chose a watery grave just to spite me, I believe. He +wasn’t much of a duck either. After I had stripped and swum for him, +dressed again, prepared the duck, cooked him, and finally sat down to dinner, +there was so little of him that he only amounted to half a meal, and was tough +at that!” +</p> + +<p> +“So was your luck,” observed Wally. +</p> + +<p> +“Uncommonly tough,” agreed the Hermit. “However, these things +are the fortunes of war, and one has to put up with them, grin, and play the +game. It’s surprising how much tougher things look if you once begin to +grumble. I’ve had so much bad luck in the bush that I’ve really got +quite used to it.” +</p> + +<p> +“How’s that?” asked Harry. +</p> + +<p> +“Why,” said the Hermit, “if it wasn’t one thing, it was +mostly another. I beg your pardon, Miss Norah, let me help you over this log. +I’ve had my tucker stolen again and again, several times by birds, twice +by swaggies, and once by a couple of black fellows pilgrimaging through the +bush I don’t know whither. They happened on my camp, and helped +themselves; I reckoned myself very lucky that they only took food, though +I’ve no doubt they would have taken more if I hadn’t arrived on the +scene in the nick of time and scared them almost out of their wits.” +</p> + +<p> +“How did you do that?” asked Norah; “tell us about it, Mr. +Hermit!” +</p> + +<p> +The Hermit smiled down at Norah’s eager face. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that’s hardly a yarn, Miss Norah,” he said, his eyes +twinkling in a way that made them look astonishingly young, despite his white +hair and his wrinkles. “That was only a small happening, though it capped +a day of bad luck. I had been busy in camp all the morning cooking, and had +laid in quite a supply of tucker, for me. I’d cooked some wild duck, and +roasted a hare, boiled a most splendid plum-duff and finally baked a big +damper, and I can tell you I was patting myself on the back because I need not +do any more cooking for nearly a week, unless it were fish—I’m not +a cook by nature, and pretty often go hungry rather than prepare a meal. +</p> + +<p> +“After dinner I thought I’d go down to the creek and try my +luck—it was a perfect day for fishing, still and grey. So I dug some +worms—and broke my spade in doing so—and started off. +</p> + +<p> +“The promise of the day held good. I went to my favourite spot, and the +fish just rushed me—the worms must have been very tempting, or else the +fish larder was scantily supplied. At any rate, they bit splendidly, and soon I +grew fastidious, and was picking out and throwing back any that weren’t +quite large enough. I fished from the old log over the creek, and soon had a +pile of fish, and grew tired of the sport. I was sleepy, too, through hanging +over the fire all the morning. I kept on fishing mechanically, but it was +little more than holding my bait in the water, and I began nodding and dozing, +leaning back on the broad old log. +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t think I had really gone to sleep, though I suppose I must +have done so, because I dreamed a kind of half-waking dream. In it I saw a +snake that crept and crept nearer and nearer to me until I could see its wicked +eyes gleaming, and though I tried to get away, I could not. It came on and on +until it was quite near, and I was feeling highly uncomfortable in my dream. At +last I made a great effort, flung out my hand towards a stick, and, with a +yell, woke up, to realise that I had struck something cold, and clammy, and +wet. What it was I couldn’t be certain for an instant, until I heard a +dull splash, and then I knew. I had swept my whole string of fish into the +water below! +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, I said things—who wouldn’t? I was too disgusted to +fish any more, and the nightmare having thoroughly roused me, I gathered up my +tackle and made tracks for home, feeling considerably annoyed with myself. +</p> + +<p> +“You must know I’ve a private entrance into my camp. It’s a +track no one would suspect of being a track, and by its aid I can approach +noiselessly. I’ve got into a habit of always sneaking back to +camp—just in case anyone should be there. This afternoon I came along +quietly, more from force of habit than from any real idea of looking out for +intruders. But half-way along it a sound pulled me up suddenly. It was the +sound of a voice. +</p> + +<p> +“When you haven’t heard anyone speak for a good many months, the +human voice has quite a startling effect upon you—or even the human +sneeze, Miss Norah!” added the Hermit, with a twinkle. “I stopped +short and listened with all my might. Presently the voice came again, low and +guttural, and I knew it for a native’s. +</p> + +<p> +“The conviction didn’t fill me with joy, as you may imagine. I +stole forward, until by peeping through the bushes I gained a view of the +camp—and was rewarded with the spectacle of two blacks—ill-favoured +brutes they were, too—quite at home, one in the act of stuffing my +cherished roast hare into a dirty bag, the other just taking a huge bite out of +my damper! +</p> + +<p> +“The sight, as you may imagine, didn’t fill me with joy. From the +bulges in my black visitors’ bag I gathered that the ducks had preceded +the hare; and even as I looked, the gentleman with the damper relaxed his +well-meant efforts, and thrust it, too, into the bag. Then they put down the +bag and dived into the tent, and I heard rustlings and low-toned remarks that +breathed satisfaction. I reckoned it was time to step in. +</p> + +<p> +“Luckily, my gun was outside the tent—indeed I never leave it +inside, but have a special hiding-place for it under a handy log, for fear of +stray marauders overhauling my possessions. A gun is a pretty tempting thing to +most men, and since my duck-shooting failure I had treated myself to a new +double-barrel—a beauty. +</p> + +<p> +“I crept to the log, drew out both guns, and then retired to the +bushes—a little uncertain, to tell the truth, what to do, for I +hadn’t any particular wish to murder my dusky callers; and at the same +time, had to remember that they were two to one, and would be unhampered by any +feeling of chivalry, if we did come to blows. I made up my mind to try to scare +them—and suddenly I raised the most horrible, terrifying, unearthly yell +I could think of, and at the same time fired both barrels of one gun quickly in +the air! +</p> + +<p> +“The effect was instantaneous. There was one howl of horror, and the +black fellows darted out of the tent! They almost cannoned into me—and +you know I must look a rum chap in these furry clothes and cap, with my +grandfatherly white beard! At all events, they seemed to think me so, for at +sight of me they both yelled in terror, and bolted away as fast as their legs +could carry them. I cheered the parting guests by howling still more heartily, +and firing my two remaining barrels over their heads as they ran. They went as +swiftly as a motor-car disappears from view—I believe they reckoned +they’d seen the bunyip. I haven’t seen a trace of them since. +</p> + +<p> +“They’d had a fine time inside the tent. Everything I possessed had +been investigated, and one or two books badly torn—the wretches!” +said the Hermit ruefully. “My clothes (I’ve a few garments beside +these beauties, Miss Norah) had been pulled about, my few papers scattered +wildly, and even my bunk stripped of blankets, which lay rolled up ready to be +carried away. There wasn’t a single one of my poor possessions that had +escaped notice, except, of course, my watch and money, which I keep carefully +buried. The tent was a remarkable spectacle, and so close and reminiscent of +black fellow that my first act was to undo the sides and let the fresh air play +through. I counted myself very lucky to get off as lightly as I did—had I +returned an hour later none of my goods and chattels would have been +left.” +</p> + +<p> +“What about the tucker?” Harry asked; “did they get away with +the bag they’d stowed it in?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not they!” said the Hermit; “they were far too scared to +think of bags or tucker. They almost fell over it in their efforts to escape, +but neither of them thought of picking it up. It was hard luck for them, after +they’d packed it so carefully.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is that how you looked at it?” Jim asked, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“Well—I tried to,” said the Hermit, laughing in his turn. +“Sometimes it was pretty hard work—and I’ll admit that for +the first few days my own misfortunes were uppermost.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you didn’t lose your tucker after all, you said?” +queried Wally. “I thought they left the bag?” +</p> + +<p> +“They did,” the Hermit admitted. “But have you ever explored +the interior of a black fellow’s bag, Master Wally? No? Well, if you had, +you would understand that I felt no further hankerings over those masterpieces +of the cook’s art. I’m not extra particular, I believe, but I +couldn’t tackle them—no thanks! I threw them into the +scrub—and then washed my hands!” +</p> + +<p> +“Poor you!” said Norah. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I wasn’t so badly off,” said the Hermit. +“They’d left me the plum-duff, which was hanging in its billy from +a bough. Lots of duff—I had it morning, noon and night, until I found +something fresh to cook—and I haven’t made duff since. And here we +are at the creek!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"></a> +CHAPTER IX.<br/> +FISHING</h2> + +<p> +The party had for some time been walking near the creek, so close to it that it +was within sound, although they seldom got a glimpse of water, save where the +ti-tree scrub on the bank grew thinner or the light wind stirred an opening in +its branches. Now, however, the Hermit suddenly turned, and although the others +failed to perceive any track or landmark, he led them quickly through the scrub +belt to the bank of the creek beyond. +</p> + +<p> +It was indeed an ideal place for fishing. A deep, quiet pool, partly shaded by +big trees, lay placid and motionless, except for an occasional ripple, stirred +by a light puff of wind. An old wattle tree grew on the bank, its limbs jutting +out conveniently, and here Jim and Wally ensconced themselves immediately, and +turned their united attention to business. For a time no sound was heard save +the dull “plunk” of sinkers as the lines, one by one, were flung +into the water. +</p> + +<p> +The Hermit did not fish. He had plenty at his camp, he said, and fishing for +fun had lost its excitement, since he fished for a living most days of the +week. So he contented himself with advising the others where to throw in, and +finally sat down on the grass near Norah. +</p> + +<p> +A few minutes passed. Then Jim jerked his line hurriedly and began to pull in +with a feverish expression. It lasted until a big black fish made its +appearance, dangling from the hook, and then it was suddenly succeeded by a +look of intense disgust, as a final wriggle released the prisoner, which fell +back with a splash into the water. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’m blessed!” said Jim wrathfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Hard luck!” said Harry. +</p> + +<p> +“Try again, Jimmy, and stick to him this time,” counselled Wally, +in a fatherly tone. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you shut up,” Jim answered, re-baiting his hook. “I +didn’t catch an old boot, anyhow!”—which pertinent reflection +had the effect of silencing Wally, amidst mild mirth on the part of the other +members of the expedition. +</p> + +<p> +Scarcely a minute more, and Norah pulled sharply at her line and began to haul +in rapidly. +</p> + +<p> +“Got a whale?” inquired Jim. +</p> + +<p> +“Something like it!” Norah pulled wildly. +</p> + +<p> +“Hang on!” +</p> + +<p> +“Stick to him!” +</p> + +<p> +“Mind your eye!” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t get your line tangled!” +</p> + +<p> +“Want any help, Miss Norah?” +</p> + +<p> +“No thanks.” Norah was almost breathless. A red spot flamed in each +cheek. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly the line came in. Presently it gave a sudden jerk, and was tugged back +quickly, as the fish made another run for liberty. Norah uttered an +exclamation, quickly suppressed, and caught it sharply, pulling strongly. +</p> + +<p> +Ah—he was out! A big, handsome perch, struggling and dancing in the air +at the end of the line. Shouts broke from the boys as Norah landed her prize +safely on the bank. +</p> + +<p> +“Well done, Miss Norah,” said the Hermit warmly. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a beauty—as fine a perch as I’ve seen in this +creek.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, isn’t he a splendid fellow!” Norah cried, surveying the +prey with dancing eyes. “I’ll have him for Dad, anyhow, even if I +don’t catch another.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Dad’s breakfast’s all right,” laughed the Hermit. +“But don’t worry, you’ll catch more yet. See, there goes +Harry.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a shout as Harry, with a scientific flourish of his rod, hauled a +small blackfish from its watery bed. +</p> + +<p> +“Not bad for a beginning!” he said, grinning. “But not a +patch on yours, Norah!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I had luck,” Norah said. “He really is a beauty, +isn’t he? I think he must be the grandfather of all the perches.” +</p> + +<p> +“If that’s so,” said Jim, beginning to pull in, with an +expression of “do or die” earnestness, “I reckon I’ve +got the grandmother on now!” +</p> + +<p> +A storm of advice hurtled about Jim as he tugged at his line. +</p> + +<p> +“Hurry up, Jim!” +</p> + +<p> +“Go slow!” +</p> + +<p> +“There—he’s getting off again!” +</p> + +<p> +“So are you!” said the ungrateful recipient of the counsel, puffing +hard. +</p> + +<p> +“Only a boot, Jim—don’t worry!” +</p> + +<p> +“Gammon!—it’s a shark!—look at his worried +expression!” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll ‘shark’ you, young Harry!” grunted Jim. +“Mind your eye—there he comes!” And expressions of admiration +broke from the scoffers as a second splendid perch dangled in the air and was +landed high and dry—or comparatively so—in the branches of the +wattle tree. +</p> + +<p> +“Is he as big as yours, Norah?” queried Jim a minute later, tossing +his fish down on the grass close to his sister and the Hermit. +</p> + +<p> +Norah laid the two fishes alongside. +</p> + +<p> +“Not quite,” she announced; “mine’s about an inch +longer, and a bit fatter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, that’s all right,” Jim said. “I said it was the +grandmother I had—yours is certainly the grandfather! I’m glad you +got the biggest, old girl.” They exchanged a friendly smile. +</p> + +<p> +A yell from Wally intimated that he had something on his hook, and with immense +pride he flourished in the air a diminutive blackfish—so small that the +Hermit proposed to use it for bait, a suggestion promptly declined by the +captor, who hid his catch securely in the fork of two branches, before +re-baiting his hook. Then Harry pulled out a fine perch, and immediately +afterwards Norah caught a blackfish; and after that the fun waxed fast and +furious, the fish biting splendidly, and all hands being kept busy. An hour +later Harry shook the last worm out of the bait tin and dropped it into the +water on his hook, where it immediately was seized by a perch of very tender +years. +</p> + +<p> +“Get back and grow till next year,” advised Harry, detaching the +little prisoner carefully, the hook having caught lightly in the side of its +mouth. “I’ll come for you next holidays!” and he tossed the +tiny fellow back into the water. “That’s our last scrap of bait, +you chaps,” he said, beginning to wind up his line. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve been fishing with an empty hook for I don’t know how +long,” said Jim, hauling up also. “These beggars have nibbled my +bait off and carefully dodged the hook.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, we’ve plenty, haven’t we?” Norah said. +“Just look what a splendid pile of fish!” +</p> + +<p> +“They take a bit of beating, don’t they?” said Jim. +“That’s right, Wal, pull him up!” as Wally hauled in another +fine fish. “We couldn’t carry more if we had ’em.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then it’s a good thing my bait’s gone, too!” laughed +Norah, winding up. “Haven’t we had a most lovely time!” +</p> + +<p> +Jim produced a roll of canvas which turned out to be two sugar bags, and in +these carefully bestowed the fish, sousing the whole thoroughly in the water. +The boys gathered up the lines and tackle and “planted” the rods +conveniently behind a log, “to be ready for next time,” they said. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, we’ve had splendid sport, thanks to you, sir,” Jim +said, turning to the Hermit, who stood looking on at the preparations, a +benevolent person, “something between Father Christmas and Robinson +Crusoe,” as Norah whispered to Harry. “We certainly wouldn’t +have got on half as well if we’d stayed where we were.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I don’t know,” the Hermit answered. “Yours is a +good place—I’ve often caught plenty of fish there—only not to +be relied on as this pool is. I’ve really never known this particular +spot fail—the fish seem to live in it all the year round. However, +I’m glad you’ve had decent luck—it’s not a bit jolly to +go home empty-handed, I know. And now, what’s the next thing to be done? +The afternoon’s getting on—don’t you think it’s time +you came to pay me a visit at the camp?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, please!” Norah cried. +</p> + +<p> +Jim hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“We’d like awfully to see your camp, if—if it’s not any +bother to you,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Not the least in the world,” the Hermit said. “Only I +can’t offer you any refreshment. I’ve nothing but cold +’possum and tea, and the ’possum’s an acquired taste, +I’m afraid. I’ve no milk for the tea, and no damper, either!” +</p> + +<p> +“By George!” said Jim remorsefully. “Why, we ate all your +damper at lunch!” +</p> + +<p> +“I can easily manufacture another,” the Hermit said, laughing. +“I’m used to the process. Only I don’t suppose I could get it +done soon enough for afternoon tea.” +</p> + +<p> +“We’ve loads of tucker,” Jim said. “Far more than +we’re likely to eat. Milk, too. We meant to boil the billy again before +we start for home.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll tell you what,” Norah said, struck by a brilliant idea. +“Let’s coo-ee for Billy, and when he comes send him back for our +things. Then if—if Mr. Hermit likes, we could have tea at his +camp.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, that’s a splendid notion,” the Hermit cried. +“I’m delighted that you thought of it, Miss Norah, although +I’m sorry my guests have to supply their own meal! It doesn’t seem +quite the thing—but in the bush, polite customs have to fall into disuse. +I only keep up my own good manners by practising on old Turpentine, my snake! +However, if you’re so kind as to overlook my deficiencies, and make them +up yourselves, by all means let us come along and coo-ee for sweet +William!” +</p> + +<p> +He shouldered one of the bags of fish as he spoke, disregarding a protest from +the boys. Jim took the second, and they set out for the camp. +</p> + +<p> +Their way led for some time along the track by which they had come, if +“track” it might be called. Certainly, the Hermit trod it +confidently enough, but the others could only follow in his wake, and wonder by +what process he found his way so quickly through the thick bush. +</p> + +<p> +About half a mile along the creek the Hermit suddenly turned off almost at +right angles, and struck into the scrub. The children followed him closely, +keeping as nearly at his heels as the nature of the path would permit. +</p> + +<p> +Norah found it not very pleasant. The Hermit went at a good rate, swinging over +the rough ground with the sure-footed case of one accustomed to the scrub and +familiar with the path. The boys unhampered by skirts and long hair, found no +great difficulty in keeping up with him, but the small maiden of the party, +handicapped by her clothes, to say nothing of being youngest of them all, +plodded along in the rear, catching on sarsaparilla vines and raspberry +tangles, plunging head first through masses of dogwood, and getting decidedly +the worst of the journey. +</p> + +<p> +Harry was the first to notice that Norah was falling “into the +distance,” as he put it, and he ran back to her immediately. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor old kid!” he said shamefacedly. “I’d no idea you +were having such a beast of a time. Sorry, Norah!” His polite regrets +were cut short by Norah’s catching her foot in a creeper and falling +bodily upon him. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” said Harry, catching her deftly. “Delighted, +I’m sure, ma’am! It’s a privilege to catch any one like you. +Come on, old girl, and I’ll clear the track for you.” +</p> + +<p> +A little farther on the Hermit had halted, looking a trifle guilty. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m really sorry, Miss Norah,” he said, as Norah and Harry +made their way up to the waiting group. “I didn’t realise I was +going at such a pace. We’ll make haste more slowly.” +</p> + +<p> +He led the way, pausing now and again to make it easier for the little girl, +holding the bushes aside and lifting her bodily over several big logs and sharp +watercourses. Finally he stopped. +</p> + +<p> +“I think if you give Billy a call now, Jim,” he said, “he +won’t have much difficulty in finding us.” +</p> + +<p> +To the children it seemed an utter impossibility that Billy should ever find +them, though they said nothing, and Jim obediently lifted up his voice and +coo-ee’d in answer to the Hermit’s words. For himself, Jim was free +to confess he had quite lost his bearings, and the other boys were as much at +sea as if they had suddenly been dropped down at the North Pole. Norah alone +had an idea that they were not far from their original camping-place; an idea +which was confirmed when a long “Ai-i-i!” came in response to +Jim’s shout, sounding startlingly near at hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Master Billy has been making his way along the creek,” commented +the Hermit. “He’s no distance off. Give him another call.” +</p> + +<p> +“Here!” Jim shouted. Billy answered again, and after a few more +exchanges, the bushes parted and revealed the sable retainer, somewhat out of +breath. +</p> + +<p> +“Scoot back to camp, Billy,” Jim ordered. “Take these fish +and soak ’em in the creek, and bring back all our tucker—milk and +all. Bring it—Where’ll he bring it, sir?” to the Hermit. +</p> + +<p> +“See that tall tree, broken with the bough dangling?” the Hermit +asked, pointing some distance ahead. Billy nodded. “Come back to that and +cooee, and we’ll answer you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Plenty!” said Billy, shouldering the bags of fish, and departing +at a run. Billy had learnt early the futility of wasting words. +</p> + +<p> +“Come along,” said the Hermit, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +He turned off into the scrub, and led the way again, taking, it seemed to +Norah, rather a roundabout path. At length he stopped short, near a dense clump +of dogwood. +</p> + +<p> +“My back door,” he said politely. +</p> + +<p> +They stared about them. There was no sign of any door at all, nor even of any +footprints or marks of traffic. The scrub was all about them; everything was +very still and quiet in the afternoon hush. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you’ve got us beaten and no mistake!” Jim laughed, +after they had peered fruitlessly about. “Unless you camp in the air, I +don’t see—” +</p> + +<p> +“Look here,” said the Hermit. +</p> + +<p> +He drew aside a clump of dogwood, and revealed the end of an old log—a +huge tree-trunk that had long ago been a forest monarch, but having fallen, now +stretched its mighty length more than a hundred feet along the ground. It was +very broad and the uppermost side was flat, and here and there bore traces of +caked, dry mud that showed where a boot had rested. The dogwood walled it +closely on each side. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s my track home,” the Hermit said. “Let me help +you up, Miss Norah.” +</p> + +<p> +He sprang up on the log as he spoke, and extended a hand to Norah, who followed +him lightly. Then the Hermit led the way along the log, which was quite broad +enough to admit of a wheelbarrow being drawn down its length. He stopped where +the butt of the old tree, rising above the level of the trunk, barred the view, +and pulling aside the dogwood, showed rough steps, cut in the side of the log. +</p> + +<p> +“Down here, Miss Norah.” +</p> + +<p> +In a moment they were all on the ground beside him—Wally, disdaining the +steps, having sprung down, and unexpectedly measured his length on the earth, +to the accompaniment of much chaff. He picked himself up, laughing more than +any of them, just as Norah popped her head through the scrub that surrounded +them, and exclaimed delightedly—. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, here’s the camp.” +</p> + +<p> +“I say,” Jim said, following the Hermit into the little clearing, +“you’re well planted here!” +</p> + +<p> +The space was not very large—a roughly circular piece of ground, ringed +round with scrub, in which big gum trees reared their lofty heads. A wattle +tree stood in the centre, from its boughs dangling a rough hammock, made of +sacking, while a water bag hung from another convenient branch. The +Hermit’s little tent was pitched at one side; across the clearing was the +rude fireplace that Norah had seen in the morning. Everything, though tough +enough, was very clean and tidy, with a certain attempt at comfort. +</p> + +<p> +The Hermit laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I’m pretty well concealed,” he agreed. “You might +be quite close to the camp and never dream that it existed. Only bold explorers +like Miss Norah would have hit upon it from the side where she appeared to me +this morning, and my big log saves me the necessity of having a beaten track +home. I try, by getting on it at different points, to avoid a track to the log, +although, should a footmark lead anyone to it, the intruder would never take +the trouble to walk down an old bushhung tree-trunk, apparently for no reason. +So that I feel fairly secure about my home and my belongings when I plan a +fishing expedition or an excursion that takes me any distance away.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it’s a great idea,” Jim said. “Of course, a +beaten track to your camp would be nothing more or less than an invitation to +any swaggie or black fellow to follow it up.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what I thought,” the Hermit said; “and very +awkward it would have been for me, seeing that one can’t very well put a +padlock on a tent, and that all my belongings are portable. Not that +there’s anything of great value. I have a few papers I wouldn’t +care to lose, a watch and a little money—but they’re all safely +buried in a cashbox with a good lock. The rest I have to chance, and, as I told +you, I’ve so far been pretty lucky in repelling invaders. There’s +not much traffic round here, you know!” +</p> + +<p> +Jim and Norah laughed. “Not much,” they said, nodding. +</p> + +<p> +“My tent’s not large,” the Hermit said, leading the way to +that erection, which was securely and snugly pitched with its back door (had +there been one) against the trunk of a huge dead tree. It was a comparatively +new tent, with a good fly, and was watertight, its owner explained, in all +weathers. The flap was elaborately secured by many strings, tied with wonderful +and fearful knots. +</p> + +<p> +“It must take you a long time to untie those chaps every day,” said +Wally. +</p> + +<p> +“It would,” said the Hermit, “if I did untie them. +They’re only part of my poor little scheme for discouraging intruders, +Master Wally.” He slipped his fingers inside the flap and undid a hidden +fastening, which opened the tent without disarranging the array of intricate +knots. +</p> + +<p> +“A fellow without a knife might spend quite a while in untying all +those,” said the Hermit. “He’d be rather disgusted, on +completing the job, to find they had no bearing on the real fastening of the +tent. And perhaps by that time I might be home!” +</p> + +<p> +The interior of the tent was scrupulously tidy and very plain. A hastily put up +bunk was covered with blue blankets, and boasted a sacking pillow. From the +ridge-pole hung a candlestick, roughly fashioned from a knot of wood, and the +furniture was completed by a rustic table and chair, made from branches, and +showing considerable ingenuity in their fashioning. Wallaby skins thrown over +the chair and upon the floor lent a look of comfort to the tiny dwelling; and a +further touch of homeliness was given by many pictures cut from illustrated +papers and fastened to the canvas walls. The fly of the tent projected some +distance in front, and formed a kind of verandah, beneath which a second rustic +seat stood, as well as a block of wood that bore a tin dish, and evidently did +duty as a washstand. Several blackened billies hung about the camp, with a +frying-pan that bore marks of long and honourable use. +</p> + +<p> +The children surveyed this unusual home with much curiosity and interest, and +the boys were loud in their praises of the chairs and tables. The Hermit +listened to their outspoken comments with a benevolent look, evidently pleased +with their approval, and soon Jim and he were deep in a discussion of bush +carpentry—Jim, as Wally said, reckoning himself something of an artist in +that line, and being eager for hints. Meanwhile the other boys and Norah +wandered about the camp, wondering at the completeness that had been arrived at +with so little material, and at its utter loneliness and isolation. +</p> + +<p> +“A man might die here half a dozen times, and no one be any the +wiser,” Wally said. “I wouldn’t like it myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Once would be enough for most chaps.” Harry grinned. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, get out! you know what I mean,” retorted Wally. “You +chaps are never satisfied unless you’re pulling my leg—it’s a +wonder I don’t limp! But seriously, what a jolly rum life for a man to +choose.” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s an educated chap, too,” Harry said—“talks +like a book when he likes. I wonder what on earth he’s doing it +for?” +</p> + +<p> +They had dropped their voices instinctively, and had moved away from the tent. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s certainly not the ordinary swaggie,” Norah said slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“Not by a good bit,” Wally agreed. “Why, he can talk like our +English master at school! Perhaps he’s hiding.” +</p> + +<p> +“Might be,” Harry said. “You never can tell—he’s +certainly keen enough on getting away from people.” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s chosen a good place, then.” +</p> + +<p> +“Couldn’t be better. I wonder if there’s anything in +it—if he really has done anything and doesn’t want to be +found?” +</p> + +<p> +“I never heard such bosh!” said Norah indignantly. “One would +think he really looked wicked, instead of being such a kind old chap. +D’you think he’s gone and committed a murder, or robbed a bank, or +something like that? I wonder you’re not afraid to be in his camp!” +</p> + +<p> +The boys stared in amazement. +</p> + +<p> +“Whew-w-w!” whistled Wally. +</p> + +<p> +Harry flushed a little. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh steady, Norah!” he protested—“we really +didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. It was only an idea. I’ll admit +be doesn’t look a hardened sinner.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you shouldn’t have such ideas,” Norah said stoutly; +“he’s a great deal too nice, and look how kind he’s been to +us! If he chooses to plant himself in the bush, it’s no one’s +business but his own.” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose not,” Harry began. He pulled up shortly as the Hermit, +followed by Jim, emerged from the tent. +</p> + +<p> +The Hermit had a queer smile in his eyes, but Jim looked desperately +uncomfortable. +</p> + +<p> +Jim favoured the others with a heavy scowl as he came out of the tent, slipping +behind the Hermit in order that he might deliver it unobserved. It was plain +enough to fill them with considerable discomfort. They exchanged glances of +bewilderment. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder what’s up now?” Wally whispered. +</p> + +<p> +Jim strolled over to them as the Hermit, without saying anything, crossed to +his fireplace, and began to put some sticks together. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re bright objects!” he whispered wrathfully. “Why +can’t you speak softly if you must go gabbling about other people?” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t mean to say he heard us?” Harry said, colouring. +</p> + +<p> +“I do, then! We could hear every word you said, and it was jolly awkward +for me. I didn’t know which way to look.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was he wild?” whispered Wally. +</p> + +<p> +“Blessed if I know. He just laughed in a queer way, until Norah stuck up +for him, and then he looked grave. ‘I’m lucky to have one +friend,’ he said, and walked out of the tent. You’re a set of +goats!” finished Jim comprehensively. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’m not ashamed of what I said, anyhow!” Norah +answered indignantly. She elevated her tip-tilted nose, and walked away to +where the Hermit was gathering sticks, into which occupation she promptly +entered. The boys looked at each other. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I am—rather,” Harry said. He disappeared into the +scrub, returning presently with a log of wood as heavy as he could drag. Wally, +seeing his idea, speedily followed suit, and Jim, after a stare, copied their +example. They worked so hard that by the time the Hermit and Norah had the fire +alight, quite a respectable stack of wood greeted the eye of the master of the +camp. He looked genuinely pleased. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you are kind chaps,” he said. “That will save me +wood-carting for many a day, and it is a job that bothers my old back.” +</p> + +<p> +“We’re very glad to get it for you, sir,” Jim blurted, a +trifle shamefacedly. A twinkle came into the Hermit’s eyes as he looked +at him. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s all square, Jim,” he said quietly, and without any +more being said the boys felt relieved. Evidently this Hermit was not a man to +bear malice, even if he did overhear talk that wasn’t meant for him. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said the Hermit, breaking a somewhat awkward silence, +“it’s about time we heard the dusky Billy, isn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite time, I reckon,” Jim replied. “Lazy young +beggar!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, the billy’s not boiling yet, although it’s not far off +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“There he is,” Norah said quickly, as a long shout sounded near at +hand. The Hermit quickly went off in its direction, and presently returned, +followed by Billy, whose eyes were round as he glanced about the strange place +in which he found himself, although otherwise no sign of surprise appeared on +his sable countenance. He carried the bags containing the picnic +expedition’s supply of food, which Norah promptly fell to unpacking. An +ample supply remained from lunch, and when displayed to advantage on the short +grass of the clearing the meal looked very tempting. The Hermit’s eyes +glistened as Norah unpacked a bag of apples and oranges as a finishing touch. +</p> + +<p> +“Fruit!” he said. “Oh, you lucky people! I wish there were +fruit shops in the scrub. I can dispense with all the others, but one does miss +fruit.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’m glad we brought such a bagful, because I’m sure we +don’t want it,” Norah said. “You must let us leave it with +you, Mr. Hermit.” +</p> + +<p> +“Water’s plenty boilin’,” said Billy +</p> + +<p> +Tea was quickly brewed, and presently they were seated on the ground and making +a hearty meal, as if the lunch of a few hours ago had never been. +</p> + +<p> +“If a fellow can’t get hungry in the bush,” said Wally, +holding out his hand for his fifth scone, “then he doesn’t deserve +ever to get hungry at all!” To which Jim replied, “Don’t +worry, old man—that’s a fate that’s never likely to overtake +you!” Wally, whose hunger was of a generally prevailing kind, which +usually afflicted him most in school hours, subsided meekly into his tea-cup. +</p> + +<p> +They did not hurry over the meal, for everyone was a little lazy after the long +day, and there was plenty of time to get home—the long summer evening was +before them, and it would merge into the beauty of a moonlit night. So they +“loafed” and chatted aimlessly, and drank huge quantities of the +billy-tea, that is quite the nicest tea in the world, especially when it is +stirred with a stick. And when they were really ashamed to eat any more they +lay about on the grass, yarning, telling bush tales many and strange, and +listening while the Hermit spun them old-world stories that made the time slip +away wonderfully. It was with a sigh that Jim roused himself at last. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” he said, “it’s awfully nice being here, and +I’m not in a bit of a hurry to go—are you, chaps?” +</p> + +<p> +The chaps chorused “No.” +</p> + +<p> +“All the same, it’s getting late,” Jim went on, pulling out +his watch—“later than I thought, my word! Come on—we’ll +have to hurry. Billy, you slip along and saddle up the ponies one-time +quick!” +</p> + +<p> +Billy departed noiselessly. +</p> + +<p> +“He never said ‘Plenty!’” said Wally disappointedly, +gathering himself up from the grass. +</p> + +<p> +“It was an oversight,” Jim laughed. “Now then, Norah, come +along. What about the miserable remains?” +</p> + +<p> +“The remains aren’t so miserable,” said Norah, who was on her +knees gathering up the fragments of the feast. “See, there’s a lot +of bread yet, ever so many scones, heaps of cake, and the fruit, to say nothing +of butter and jam.” She looked up shyly at the Hermit. “Would +you—would you mind having them?” +</p> + +<p> +The Hermit laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Not a bit!” he said. “I’m not proud, and it is really +a treat to see civilized food again. I’ll willingly act as your +scavenger, Miss Norah.” +</p> + +<p> +Together they packed up the remnants, and the Hermit deposited them inside his +tent. He rummaged for a minute in a bag near his bed, and presently came out +with something in his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“I amuse myself in my many odd moments by this sort of thing,” he +said. “Will you have it, Miss Norah?” +</p> + +<p> +He put a photograph frame into her hand—a dainty thing, made from the +native woods, cunningly jointed together and beautifully carved. Norah accepted +it with pleasure. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s not anything,” the Hermit disclaimed—“very +rough, I’m afraid. But you can’t do very good work when your +pocket-knife is your only tool. I hope you’ll forgive its shortcomings, +Miss Norah, and keep it to remember the old Hermit.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think it’s lovely,” Norah said, looking up with shining +eyes, “and I’m ever so much obliged. I’ll always keep +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t forget,” the Hermit said, looking down at the flushed +face. “And some day, perhaps, you’ll all come again.” +</p> + +<p> +“We must hurry,” Jim said. +</p> + +<p> +They were all back at the lunching-place, and the sight of the sun, sinking far +across the plain, recalled Jim to a sense of half-forgotten responsibility. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s every man for his own steed,” he said. “Can you +manage your old crock, Norah?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you wish yours was half as good?” queried Norah, as +she took the halter off Bobs and slipped the bit into his mouth. +</p> + +<p> +Jim grinned. +</p> + +<p> +“Knew I’d got her on a soft spot!” he murmured, wrestling +with a refractory crupper. +</p> + +<p> +Harry and Wally were already at their ponies. Billy, having fixed the load to +his satisfaction on the pack mare, was standing on one foot on a log jutting +over the creek, drawing the fish from their cool resting-place in the water. +The bag came up, heavy and dripping—so heavy, indeed, that it proved the +last straw for Billy’s balance, and, after a wild struggle to remain on +the log, he was forced to step off with great decision into the water, a +movement accompanied with a decisive “Bust!” amidst wild mirth on +the part of the boys. Luckily, the water was not knee deep, and the black +retainer regained the log, not much the worse, except in temper. +</p> + +<p> +“Damp in there, Billy?” queried Wally, with a grave face. +</p> + +<p> +“Plenty!” growled Billy, marching off the log with offended dignity +and a dripping leg. +</p> + +<p> +The Hermit had taken Norah’s saddle and placed it on Bobs, girthing it up +with the quick movements of a practised hand. Norah watched him keenly, and +satisfaction crept into her eyes, as, the job done, the old man stroked the +pony’s glossy neck, and Bobs, scenting a friend, put his nose into his +hand. +</p> + +<p> +“He likes you,” Norah said; “he doesn’t do that to +everyone. Do you like horses?” +</p> + +<p> +“Better than men,” said the Hermit. “You’ve a good +pony, Miss Norah.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, he’s a beauty,” the little girl said. “I’ve +had him since he was a foal.” +</p> + +<p> +“He’ll carry you home well. Fifteen miles, is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“About that, I think.” +</p> + +<p> +“And we’ll find Dad hanging over the home paddock gate, wondering +where we are,” said Jim, coming up, leading his pony. “We’ll +have to say good-night, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good-night, and good-bye,” said the Hermit, holding out his hand. +“I’m sorry you’ve all got to go. Perhaps some other +holidays—?” +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll come out,” nodded Jim. He shook hands warmly. +“And if ever you find your way in as far as our place—” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid not,” said the Hermit hastily. “As I was +explaining to Miss Norah, I’m a solitary animal. But I hope to see you +all again.” +</p> + +<p> +The boys said “good-bye” and mounted. The Hermit held Bobs while +Norah swung herself up—the pony was impatient to be gone. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-bye,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +Norah looked at him pitifully. +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t say good-bye,” she said. “I’m coming +back—some day. So it’s—‘so long!’” +</p> + +<p> +“So long,” the old man echoed, rather drearily, holding her hand. +Then something queer came into his eyes, for suddenly Norah bent from the +saddle and kissed his cheek. +</p> + +<p> +He stood long, watching the ponies and the little young figures scurrying +across the plain. When they vanished he turned wearily and, with slow steps, +went back into the scrub. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +They forded the creek carefully, for the water was high, and it was dark in the +shadows of the trees on the banks. Jim knew the way well, and so did Norah, and +they led, followed by the other boys. When they had crossed, it was necessary +to go steadily in the dim light. The track was only wide enough for them to +ride in Indian file, which is not a method of locomotion which assists +conversation, and they rode almost in silence. +</p> + +<p> +It was queer, down there in the bush, with only cries of far-off birds to break +the quiet. Owls and mopokes hooted dismally, and once a great flapping thing +flew into Harry’s face, and he uttered a startled yell before he realised +that it was only one of the night birds—whereat mirth ensued at the +expense of Harry. Then to scare away the hooters they put silence to flight +with choruses, and the old bush echoed to “Way Down Upon the Swanee +River” and more modern songs, which aren’t half so sweet as the old +Christy Minstrel ditties. After they had exhausted all the choruses they knew, +Harry “obliged” with one of Gordon’s poems, recited with such +boyish simplicity combined with vigour that it quite brought down the audience, +who applauded so loudly that the orator was thankful for the darkness to +conceal his blushes. +</p> + +<p> +“Old Harry’s our champion elocutioner at school, you know,” +Wally said. “You should have heard him last Speech Day! He got more +clapping than all the rest put together.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shut up, young Wally!” growled Harry in tones of affected wrath. +</p> + +<p> +“Same to you,” said Wally cheerfully. “Why, you had all the +mammas howling into their hankies in your encore piece!” +</p> + +<p> +After which nothing would satisfy Norah but another recitation, and another +after that; and then the timber ended, and there was only the level plain be +tween them and home, with the moon just high enough to make it sufficiently +light for a gallop. They tore wildly homeward, and landed in a slightly +dishevelled bunch at the gate of the paddock. +</p> + +<p> +No one was about the stables. +</p> + +<p> +“Men all gone off somewhere,” said Jim laconically, proceeding to +let his pony go. His example was followed by each of the others, the steeds +dismissed with a rub and a pat, and the saddles placed on the stands. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I don’t know about you chaps,” said Jim, “but +I’m as hungry as a hunter!” +</p> + +<p> +“Same here,” chorused the chaps. +</p> + +<p> +“Come along and see what good old Brownie’s put by for us,” +said Norah, disappearing towards the house like a small comet. +</p> + +<p> +The boys raced after her. In the kitchen doorway Mrs. Brown stood, her broad +face resplendent with smiles. +</p> + +<p> +“I was just beginning to wonder if any of you had fallen into the +creek,” she said. “You must be hungry, poor dears. Supper’s +ready.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where’s Dad?” asked Norah. +</p> + +<p> +“Your Pa’s gone to Sydney.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sydney!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, my dears. A tallygrum came for him—something about some +valuable cattle to be sold, as he wants.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” said Jim, “those shorthorns he was talking +about?” +</p> + +<p> +“Very like, Master Jim. Very sorry, your Pa were, he said, to go so +suddint, and not to see you again, and the other young gentlemen likewise, +seein’ you go away on Monday. He left his love to Miss Norah, and a +letter for you; and Miss Norah, you was to try not to be dull, and he would be +back by Thursday, so he ’oped.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” said Norah, blankly. “It’s hardly a homecoming +without Dad.” +</p> + +<p> +Supper was over at last, and it had been a monumental meal. To behold the +onslaughts made by the four upon Mrs. Brown’s extensive preparations one +might have supposed that they had previously been starving for time uncounted. +</p> + +<p> +“Heigho!” said Jim. “Our last day to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +Groans followed from Harry and Wally. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you want to remind a fellow for?” +</p> + +<p> +“Couldn’t help it—slipped out. What a jolly sell not to see +old Dad again!” Jim wrinkled his brown handsome face into a frown. +</p> + +<p> +“You needn’t talk!” said Norah gloomily. “Fancy me on +Monday—not a soul to speak to.” +</p> + +<p> +“Poor old Norah—yes, it’s rough on you,” said Jim. +“Wish you were coming too. Why can’t you get Dad to let you go to +school in Melbourne?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks,” said Norah hastily, “I’d rather not. I think +I can bear this better. School! What on earth would I do with myself, shut up +all day?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, all right; I thought you might like it. You get used to it, you +know.” +</p> + +<p> +“I couldn’t get used to doing without Dad,” returned Norah. +</p> + +<p> +“Or Dad to doing without you, I reckon,” said Jim. “Oh, I +suppose it’s better as it is—only you’ll have to get taught +some day, old chap, I suppose.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, never mind that now,” Norah said impatiently. “I suppose +I’ll have a governess some day, and she won’t let me ride astride, +or go after the cattle, or climb trees, or do anything worth doing, and +everything will be perfectly hateful. It’s simply beastly to be getting +old!” +</p> + +<p> +“Cheer up, old party,” Jim laughed. “She might be quite a +decent sort for all you know. As for riding astride, Dad’ll never let you +ride any other way, so you can keep your mind easy about that. Well, never mind +governesses, anyhow; you haven’t got one yet, and sufficient unto the day +is the governess thereof. What are we going to do to-morrow?” +</p> + +<p> +“Can’t do very much,” said Norah, still showing traces of +gloom. “It’s Sunday; besides, the horses want a spell, and you boys +will have to pack—you leave pretty early on Monday, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, botheration!” said Wally, jumping up so suddenly that he upset +his chair. “For goodness’ sake, don’t talk of going back +until we actually get there; it’s bad enough then. Let’s go and +explore somewhere to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“We can do that all right,” said Jim, glad of any turn being given +to the melancholy conversation. “We’ve never taken you chaps to the +falls, two miles up the creek, and they’re worth seeing.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a nice walk, too,” added Norah, putting sorrow to +flight by deftly landing a pellet of bread on Harry’s nose. “Think +you can struggle so far, Harry?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, and carry you back when you knock up,” said that gentleman, +returning the missile, without success, Norah having retreated behind a vase of +roses. “I think it would be a jolly good plan.” +</p> + +<p> +“Right oh!” said Jim. “That’s settled. We’ll pack +up in the morning, get Brownie to give us dinner early, and start in good time. +It doesn’t really take long to walk there, you know, only we want to be +able to loaf on the way, and when we get to the falls.” +</p> + +<p> +“Rather,” said Harry. “I never see any fun in a walk when you +tear somewhere, get there, and tear back again. Life’s too short. Come +on, Norah, and play to us.” +</p> + +<p> +So they trooped into the drawing-room, and for an hour the boys lay about on +sofas and easy chairs, while Norah played softly. Finally she found that her +entire audience was sound asleep, a state of things she very naturally resented +by gently pouring water from a vase on their peaceful faces. Peace fled at +that, and so did Norah. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"></a> +CHAPTER X.<br/> +THE LAST DAY</h2> + +<p> +“Now then, Harry, are you ready?” +</p> + +<p> +“Coming,” said Harry’s cheerful voice. He appeared on the +verandah, endeavouring to cram a gigantic apple into his pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“Norah’s,” he said, in response to Jim’s lifted +eyebrows. “Don’t know if she means to eat it in sections or +not—it certainly doesn’t mean to go into my pocket as it is.” +He desisted from his efforts. “Try it in the crown of your hat, old +man.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks—my hat’s got all it knows to hold my brains,” +retorted Jim. “You can’t take that thing. Here, Norah,” as +that damsel appeared on the step, “how do you imagine Harry’s going +to cart this apple?” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite simple,” said Norah airily. “Cut it in four, and +we’ll each take a bit.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the judgment of Solomon,” said Wally, who was lying +full length on the lawn—recovering, as Jim unkindly suggested, from +dinner. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, come along,” Jim said impatiently—“you’re +an awfully hard crowd to get started. We want to reach the falls in fair time, +to see the sunlight on them—it’s awfully pretty. After about three +or four o’clock the trees shade the water, and it’s quite +ordinary.” +</p> + +<p> +“Just plain, wet water,” murmured Wally. Jim rolled him over and +over down the sloping lawn, and then fled, pursued by Wally with dishevelled +attire and much grass in his mouth. The others followed more steadily, and all +four struck across the paddock to the creek. +</p> + +<p> +It was a rather hot afternoon, and they were glad to reach the shade of the +bank and to follow the cattle track that led close to the water. Great fat +bullocks lay about under the huge gum trees, scarcely raising their eyes to +glance at the children as they passed; none were eating, all were chewing the +cud in lazy contentment. They passed through a smaller paddock where superb +sheep dotted the grass—real aristocrats these, accustomed to be handled +and petted, and to live on the fat of the land—poor grass or rough +country food they had never known. Jim and Norah visited some special +favourites, and patted them. Harry and Wally admired at a distance. +</p> + +<p> +“Those some of the sheep you saved from the fire?” queried Harry. +</p> + +<p> +Norah flushed. +</p> + +<p> +“Never did,” she said shortly, and untruthfully. “Don’t +know why you can’t talk sense, Jim!”—at which that maligned +youth laughed excessively, until first the other boys, and then Norah, joined +in, perforce. +</p> + +<p> +After again climbing over the sheep-proof fence of the smaller paddock they +came out upon a wide plain, almost treeless, save for the timber along the +creek, where their cattle track still led them. Far as they could see no fence +broke the line of yellow grass. There were groups of cattle out on the plain. +These were store bullocks, Jim explained, a draft recently arrived from +Queensland, and hardly yet acclimatised. +</p> + +<p> +“It takes a good while for them to settle down,” Norah said, +“and then lots of ’em get sick—pleuro and things; and we +inoculate them, and their tails drop off, and sometimes the sick ones get +bad-tempered, and it’s quite exciting work mustering.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dangerous?” asked Wally. +</p> + +<p> +“Not with a pony that knows things like Bobs,” said Bobs’ +mistress. “He always keeps his weather eye open for danger.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not a bad thing, as you certainly don’t,” laughed Jim. +</p> + +<p> +“Well—do you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly I do,” said Jim firmly, whereat Norah laughed very +heartily. +</p> + +<p> +“When I leave school, Dad says I can go on the roads with the cattle for +one trip,” said Jim. “Be no end of fun—takes ever so long to +bring them down from Queensland, and the men have a real good time—travel +with a cook, and a covered buggy and pair to bring the tucker and tents +along.” +</p> + +<p> +“What’ll you be?” asked Wally—“cook?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, slushy,” said Harry. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I’ll take you two chaps along in those billets,” grinned +Jim. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know who’d be cook,” said Norah solemnly; +“but I don’t think the men would be in very good condition at the +end of the trip, whichever of you it was!” +</p> + +<p> +With such pleasantries they beguiled the way, until, on rounding a bend in the +track, a dull roar came plainly to their ears. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s that?” asked Wally, stopping to listen. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the falls, my boy,” replied Jim. “They’re +really quite respectable falls—almost Niagarous! Come along, we’ll +see them in a couple of minutes.” +</p> + +<p> +The sound of falling water became plainer and plainer as they pushed on. At +this point the track was less defined and the scrub thicker—Jim explained +that the cattle did not come here much, as there was no drinking-place for them +for a good distance below the falls. They might almost have imagined themselves +back in the bush near the Hermit’s camp, Harry said, as they pushed their +way through scrub and undergrowth, many raspberry vines adding variety, if not +charm, to the scramble. The last part of the walk was up bill, and at length +they came out upon a clearer patch of ground. +</p> + +<p> +For some time the noise of the falls had deepened, until now it was a loud +roar; but the sound had hardly prepared the boys for the sight that met their +gaze. High up were rocky cliffs, sparsely clothed with vegetation, and through +these the creek had cut its way, falling in one sheer mass, fifty feet or more, +into the bed below, hollowed out by it during countless ages. The water curved +over the top of the fall in one exquisite wave, smooth as polished marble, but +half-way down a point of rock jutted suddenly out, and on this the waters +dashed and split, flying off from it in a cloud of spray. At the foot the +cataract roared and bubbled and seethed in one boiling mass of rapids. +</p> + +<p> +But the glory of it all was the sunlight. It fell right on the mass of +descending water; and in the rays the fall glittered and flashed with all the +colours of the rainbow, and the flying spray was like powdered jewels. It +caught the drops hanging on the ferns that fringed the water, and turned them +into twinkling diamonds. The whole fall seemed to be alive in the +sunbeams’ dancing light. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh-h, I say,” whispered Harry. “Fancy never showing us this +before!” He cast himself on the ground and lay, chin in hands, gazing at +the wonder before him. +</p> + +<p> +“We kept it to the last,” said Norah softly. She sat down by him +and the others followed their example. +</p> + +<p> +“Just think,” said Harry, “that old creek’s been doing +that ever since time began—every day the sun comes to take his share at +lighting it up, long before we were born, and ages after we shall die! +Doesn’t it make you feel small!” +</p> + +<p> +Norah nodded understandingly. “I saw it once by moonlight,” she +said. “Dad and I rode here one night—full moon. Oh, it was lovely! +Not like this, of course, because there wasn’t any colour—but a +beautiful white, clean light, and the fall was like a sheet of silver.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you ever throw anything over?” asked Wally. His wonderment was +subsiding and the boy in him woke up again. +</p> + +<p> +“No good,” said Jim. “You never see it again. I’ve +thrown a stick in up above, and it simply whisks over and gets sucked +underneath the curtain of water at once, and disappears altogether until it +reaches the smooth water, ever so far down.” +</p> + +<p> +“Say you went over yourself?” +</p> + +<p> +“Wouldn’t be much left of you,” Jim answered, with a laugh. +“The bed of the creek’s simply full of rocks—you can see a +spike sticking up here and there in the rapids. We’ve seen sheep come +down in flood-time—they get battered to bits. I don’t think +I’ll try any experiments, thank you, young Wally.” +</p> + +<p> +“You always were a disobliging critter,” Wally grinned. +</p> + +<p> +“Another time a canoe came over,” Jim said. “It belonged to +two chaps farther up—they’d just built it, and were out for the +first time, and got down too near the falls. They didn’t know much about +managing their craft, and when the suck of the water began to take them along +they couldn’t get out of the current. They went faster and faster, +struggling to paddle against the stream, instead of getting out at an angle and +making for the bank—which they might have done. At last they could hear +the roar of the falls quite plainly.” +</p> + +<p> +“What happened to them?” asked Wally. “Did they go +over?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, they reckoned it wasn’t healthy to remain in the +canoe,” said Jim. “It was simply spinning along in the current, and +the falls were almost in sight. So they dived in, on opposite sides—the +blessed canoe nearly tipped over when they stood up, and only the shock of the +cross drive kept her right. Of course the creek’s not so very wide, even +farther up beyond the falls, and the force of their spring sent them nearly out +of the current. They could both swim well, and after a struggle they got to the +banks, just in time to see the canoe whisk over the waterfall!” +</p> + +<p> +“What hard luck!” +</p> + +<p> +“It was rather. They started off down-stream to find it, but for a long +way they couldn’t see a trace. Then, right in the calm water, ever so far +down, they found it—bit by bit. It was broken into so much +matchwood!” +</p> + +<p> +“What did they do?” asked Wally. +</p> + +<p> +“Stood and stared at it from opposite sides, like two wet images,” +said Jim, laughing. “It’s lowdown to grin, I suppose, but they must +have looked funny. Then one of them swam across and they made their way to our +place, and we fixed them up with dry things and drove them home. I don’t +think they’ve gone in for canoeing since!” finished Jim +reflectively. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I guess it would discourage them a bit,” Wally agreed. +“Getting shipwrecked’s no fun.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ever tried it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Once—in Albert Park Lagoon,” Wally admitted bashfully. +“Some of us went out for a sail one Saturday afternoon. We didn’t +know much about it, and I really don’t know what it was that tipped the +old boat over. I was the smallest, so naturally I wasn’t having any say +in managing her.” +</p> + +<p> +“That accounts for it,” said Jim dryly. +</p> + +<p> +“Didn’t mean that—goat!” said Wally. “Anyhow, I +was very much astonished to find myself suddenly kicking in the mud. Ever been +in that lake? It isn’t nice. It isn’t deep enough to drown you, but +the mud is a caution. I got it all over me—face and all!” +</p> + +<p> +“You must have looked your best!” said Jim. +</p> + +<p> +“I did. I managed to stand up, very much amazed to find I wasn’t +drowned. Two of the others walked out! I was too small to do more than just +manage to keep upright. The water was round my chest. I couldn’t have +walked a yard.” +</p> + +<p> +“How did you manage?” +</p> + +<p> +“A boat came along and picked up the survivors,” grinned Wally. +“They wouldn’t take us in. We were just caked with mud, so I +don’t blame ’em—but we hung on to the stern, and they towed +us to the shore. We were quite close to land. Then they went back and brought +our boat to us. They were jolly kind chaps—didn’t seem to mind any +trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t seem to have minded it, either,” said Norah. +</p> + +<p> +“We were too busy laughing,” Wally said. “You have to expect +these things when you go in for a life on the ocean wave. The worst part of it +came afterwards, when we went home. That was really unpleasant. I was staying +at my aunt’s in Toorak.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you get into a row?” +</p> + +<p> +“It was unpleasant,” Wally repeated. “Aunts haven’t +much sympathy, you know. They don’t like mess, and I was no end messy. We +won’t talk about it, I think, thank you.” Wally rolled over on his +back, produced an apple and bit into it solemnly. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us respect his silence,” said Jim. +</p> + +<p> +“You had aunts too?” queried Wally, with his mouth full. +</p> + +<p> +“Not exactly aunts,” Jim said. “But we had an old Tartar of a +housekeeper once, when we were small kids. She ruled us with a rod of iron for +about six months, and Norah and I could hardly call our souls our own. Father +used to be a good deal away and Mrs. Lister could do pretty well as she +liked.” +</p> + +<p> +“I did abominate that woman,” said Norah reflectively. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t wonder,” replied Jim. “You certainly were a +downtrodden little nipper as ever was. D’you remember the time we went +canoeing in the flood on your old p’rambulator?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not likely to forget it.” +</p> + +<p> +“What was it?” Wally asked. “Tell us, Jim.” +</p> + +<p> +“Norah had a pram—like most kids,” Jim began. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I like that,” said Norah, in great indignation. “It +was yours first!” +</p> + +<p> +“Never said it wasn’t,” said Jim somewhat abashed by the +laughter that ensued. “But that was ages ago. It was yours at this time, +anyhow. But only the lower storey was left—just the floor of the pram on +three wheels. Norah used to sit on this thing and push herself along with two +sticks, like rowing on dry land.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was no end of fun,” said Norah. “You <i>could</i> +go!” +</p> + +<p> +“You could,” grinned Jim. “I’ll never forget the day I +saw you start from the top of the hill near the house. The pram got a rate on +of a mile a minute, and the sticks weren’t needed. About half-way down it +struck a root, and turned three double somersaults in the air. I don’t +know how many Norah turned—but when Dad and I got to the spot she was +sitting on a thick mat of grass, laughing like one o’clock, and the pram +was about half a mile away on the flat with its wheels in the air! We quite +reckoned you were killed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, and Dad made me promise not to go down that hill again,” said +Norah ruefully. “It was a horrid nuisance!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, there was a flood,” said Jim. “Not very much of a one. +We’d had a good bit of rain, and the water-hole in the home paddock +overflowed and covered all the flat about two feet deep. At first it was a bit +too deep for Norah and her wheeled boat, but when it went down a bit she set +off voyaging. She did look a rum little figure, out in the middle of the water, +pushing herself along with her two sticks! Mrs. Lister didn’t approve of +it, but as Dad had given her leave, the housekeeper couldn’t stop +her.” +</p> + +<p> +At this point Norah was heard to murmur “Cat!” +</p> + +<p> +“Just so!” said Jim. “Well, you know, I used to poke fun at +Norah and this thing. But one day I had gone down to the water’s edge, +and she came up on it, poling herself through the water at a great rate, and it +occurred to me it didn’t look half bad fun. So I suggested a turn +myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“You said, ‘Here, kid, let’s have that thing for a +bit,’” said Norah firmly. +</p> + +<p> +“Did I?” said Jim, with meekness. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you did. So I kindly got off.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then?” asked Harry. +</p> + +<p> +“He got on. I said, ‘Jim, dear, pray be careful about the holes, +and let me tell you where they are!’” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sure you did!” grinned Wally. +</p> + +<p> +“And he said, ‘If a kid like you can keep out of holes, I guess I +can!’” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sure he did!” said Wally. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. So he set off. Now I had been over that flat so often in dry +weather that I knew every bit of it. But Jim didn’t. He went off as hard +as he could, and got on very well for a little bit—” +</p> + +<p> +“Am I telling this yarn, or are you?” inquired Jim, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“This is the part that is best for me to tell,” said Norah +solemnly. “Then he turned suddenly, so suddenly I hadn’t time to do +more than yell a warning, which he didn’t hear—and the next minute +the side wheels of the pram went over the edge of a hole, and the thing turned +upside down upon poor old Jimmy!” +</p> + +<p> +“How lovely!” said Wally, kicking with delight. “Well, and +what happened?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Jim can tell you now,” laughed Norah. “I wasn’t +under the water!” +</p> + +<p> +“I was!” said Jim. “The blessed old pram turned clean over +and cast me bodily into a hole. That was all I knew—until I tried to get +out, and found the pram had come, too, and was right on top of me—and do +you think I could move that blessed thing?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” +</p> + +<p> +“In came Norah,” said Jim. “(I’ll take it out of you +now, my girl!) She realised at once what had happened and waded in from the +bank and pulled the old pram off her poor little brother! I came up, +spluttering, to see Norah, looking very white, just preparing to dive in after +me!” +</p> + +<p> +“You never saw such a drowned rat!” said Norah, taking up the tale. +“Soaked—and muddy—and very cross! And the first thing he did +was to abuse my poor old wheely-boat!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well—wouldn’t you?” Jim laughed. “Had to abuse +something! Anyhow, we righted her and Norah waded farther in after the sticks, +which had floated peacefully away, and we pulled the wheely-boat ashore. Then +we roared laughing at each other. I certainly was a drowned rat, but Norah +wasn’t much better, as she’d slipped nearly into the hole herself, +in pulling the pram off me. But when we’d laughed, the first thought +was—‘How are we going to dodge Mrs. Lister!’ It was a nasty +problem!” +</p> + +<p> +“What did you do?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, after consultation we got up near the house, planting the pram in +some trees. We dodged through the shrubbery until we reached that old +summer-house, and there I left Norah and scooted over to the stables, and +borrowed an overcoat belonging to a boy we had working and a pair of his boots. +Dad was away, or I might have gone straight to him. I put on the borrowed +things over my wet togs (and very nice I looked!) and trotted off to the side +of the house. No one seemed about, so I slipped into my room through the window +and then into Norah’s, and got a bundle of clothes, and back I scooted to +the summer-house, left Norah’s things there, and found a dressing-room +for myself among some shrubs close by. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, do you know, that old cat, Mrs. Lister, had seen us all the time? +She’d actually spotted us coming up the paddock, dripping, and had +deliberately planted herself to see what we’d do. She knew all about my +expedition after clothes; then she followed us to the shrubbery, and descended +upon us like an avalanche, just as we got half-dressed!” +</p> + +<p> +“‘May I ask what you naughty little children are doing?’ she +said. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you know, that put my back up a bit—’cause I was +nearly twelve, and Dad didn’t make a little kid of me. However, I tried +to keep civil, and tell her what had happened; but she told me to hold my +tongue. She grabbed Norah by the shoulder, and called her all the names under +the sun, and shook her. Then she said, ‘You’ll come to bed at once, +miss!’ and caught hold of her wrist to drag her in. +</p> + +<p> +“Now Norah had sprained her wrist not long before, and she had to be a +bit careful of it. We all knew that. She didn’t cry out when Mrs. Lister +jerked her wrist, but I saw her turn white, and knew it was the bad one.” +</p> + +<p> +“So he chucked himself on top of old Mrs. Lister, and pounded her as hard +as he could,” put in Norah, “and she was so astonished she let me +go. She turned her attention to Jim then, and gave him a terrible whack over +the head that sent him flying. And just then we heard a voice that was so angry +we hardly recognised it for Dad’s, saying— +</p> + +<p> +“‘What is this all about?’” +</p> + +<p> +“My word, we were glad to see Dad!” said Jim. “He came over +and put his arm round Norah—poor little kid. Mrs. Lister had screwed her +wrist till it was worse than ever it had been, and she was as white as a sheet. +Dad helped her on with her clothes. All the time Mrs. Lister was pouring out a +flood of eloquence against us, and was nearly black in the face with rage. Dad +took no notice until Norah was dressed. Then he said, ‘Come to me in the +study in twenty minutes,’ and he picked Norah up and carried her inside, +where he dosed her, and fixed up her wrist. I put on my clothes and followed +them. +</p> + +<p> +“Norah and I never said anything until Mrs. Lister had told her story, +which was a fine production, little truth, and three parts awful crams. Then +Dad asked for our side, and we just told him. He knew we never told lies, and +he believed us, and we told him some other things Mrs. Lister used to do to us +in the way of bullying and spite. I don’t know that Dad needed them, +because Norah’s wrist spoke louder than fifty tales, and he didn’t +need any more evidence, though after all, she might have grabbed the bad wrist +by mistake, and she had done far worse things on purpose. But the end of it +was, Mrs. Lister departed that night, and Norah and I danced a polka in the +hall when we heard the buggy drive off.” +</p> + +<p> +“That being the case,” said Norah gravely, “we’ll all +have an apple.” +</p> + +<p> +The apples were produced and discussed, and then it was time to think of home, +for the sun had long since left the glistening surface of the falls. So they +gathered themselves up, and reluctantly enough left the beautiful scene behind +them, with many a backward look. +</p> + +<p> +The way home was rather silent. The shadow of the boys’ departure was +over them all, and Norah especially felt the weight of approaching loneliness. +With Dad at home it would have been easier to let the boys go, but the prospect +of several days by herself, with only the servants for company, was not a very +comforting one. Norah wished dismally that she had been born a boy, with the +prospect of a journey, and mates, and school, and “no end of +larks.” Then she thought of Dad, and though still dismal, unwished the +wish, and was content to remain a girl. +</p> + +<p> +There was a little excitement on the homeward trip over a snake, which tried to +slip away unseen through the grass, and when it found itself surrounded by +enemies, coiled itself round Harry’s leg, a proceeding very painful to +that youth, who nevertheless stood like a statue while Jim dodged about for a +chance to strike at the wildly waving head. He got it at last, and while the +reptile writhed in very natural annoyance, Harry managed to get free, and soon +put a respectful distance between himself and his too-affectionate +acquaintance. Jim finished up the snake, and they resumed the track, keeping a +careful look-out, and imagining another in every rustle. +</p> + +<p> +“Well done, old Harry!” said Wally. “Stood like a statue, you +did!” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks!” said Harry. “Jim’s the chap to say +‘Well done’ to, I think.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not me,” said Jim. “Easy enough to try to kill the brute. +I’d rather do that than feel him round my leg, where I couldn’t get +at him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I think I would, too,” Harry said, laughing. “I never +felt such a desire to stampede in my life.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was beastly,” affirmed Norah. She was a little pale. “It +seemed about an hour before he poked his horrid head out and let Jim get a +whack at it. But you didn’t lose much time, then, Jimmy!” +</p> + +<p> +“Could he have bitten through the leg of your pants?” queried +Wally, with interest. +</p> + +<p> +“He couldn’t have sent all the venom through, I think,” Jim +replied. “But enough would have gone to make a very sick little +Harry.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’d be an interesting experiment, no doubt,” said Harry. +“But, if you don’t mind, I’ll leave it for someone else to +try. I’d recommend a wooden-legged man as the experimenter. He’d +feel much more at his ease while the snake was trying how much venom he could +get through a pant leg!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"></a> +CHAPTER XI.<br/> +GOOD-BYE</h2> + +<p> +“I was just a-goin’ to ring the big bell,” said Mrs. Brown. +</p> + +<p> +She was standing on the front verandah as the children came up the lawn. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, we’re not late, Brownie, are we?” asked Norah. +</p> + +<p> +“Not very.” The old housekeeper smiled at her. “Only when +your Pa’s away I allers feels a bit nervis about you—sech +thoughtless young people, an’ all them animals and snakes about!” +</p> + +<p> +“Gammon!” said Jim laughing. “D’you mean to say I +can’t look after them, Brownie?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d rather not say anythink rash, Master Jim,” rejoined Mrs. +Brown with a twinkle. +</p> + +<p> +“I guess Mrs. Brown’s got the measure of your foot, old man,” +grinned Harry. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, well,” said Jim resignedly, “a chap never gets his due +in this world. I forgive you, Brownie, though you don’t deserve it. Got a +nice tea for us?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sech as it is, Master Jim, it’s waitin’ on you,” said +Mrs. Brown, with point. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what you might call a broad hint,” cried Jim. +“Come on, chaps—race you for a wash-up!” +</p> + +<p> +They scattered, Mrs. Brown laying violent hands on the indignant Norah, and +insisting on arraying her in a clean frock, which the victim resisted, as +totally unnecessary. Mrs. Brown carried her point, however, and a trim little +maiden joined the boys in the dining-room five minutes later. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Brown’s cooking was notable, and she had excelled herself over the +boys’ farewell tea. A big cold turkey sat side by side with a ham of +majestic dimensions, while the cool green of a salad was tempting after the hot +walk. There were jellies, and a big bowl of fruit salad, while the centre of +the table was occupied by a tall cake, raising aloft glittering white tiers. +There were scones and tarts and wee cakes, and dishes of fresh fruit, and +altogether the boys whistled long and softly, and declared that “Brownie +was no end of a brick!” +</p> + +<p> +Whereat Mrs. Brown, hovering about to see that her charges wanted nothing, +smiled and blushed, and said, “Get on, now, do!” +</p> + +<p> +Jim carved, and Jim’s carving was something to marvel at. No method came +amiss to him. When he could cut straight he did; at other times he sawed; and, +when it seemed necessary, he dug. After he had finished helping every one, +Wally said that the turkey looked as if a dog had been at it, and the ham was +worse, which remarks Jim meekly accepted as his due. Nor did the inartistic +appearance of the turkey prevent the critic from coming back for more! +</p> + +<p> +Everyone was hungry, and did full justice to “Brownie’s” +forethought; while Norah, behind the tall teapot, declared that it was a job +for two men and a boy to pour out for such a thirsty trio. Harry helped the +fruit salad, and Harry’s helpings were based on his own hunger, and would +have suited Goliath. Finally, Norah cut the cake with great ceremony, and +Wally’s proposal that everyone should retire to the lawn with a +“chunk” was carried unanimously. +</p> + +<p> +Out on the grass they lay and chattered, while the dusk came down, and slowly a +pale moon climbed up into the sky. Norah alone was silent. After a while Harry +and Wally declared they must go and pack, and Jim and his sister were left +alone. +</p> + +<p> +Wally and Harry scurried down the hail. The sound of their merry voices died +away, and there was silence on the lawn. +</p> + +<p> +Jim rolled nearer to Norah. +</p> + +<p> +“Blue, old girl?” +</p> + +<p> +“‘M,” said a muffled voice. +</p> + +<p> +Jim felt for her hand in the darkness—and found it. The small, brown +fingers closed tightly round his rough paw. +</p> + +<p> +“I know,” he said comprehendingly. “I’m awfully sorry, +old woman. I do wish we hadn’t to go.” +</p> + +<p> +There was no answer. Jim knew why—and also knowing perfectly well that +tears would mean the deepest shame, he talked on without requiring any +response. +</p> + +<p> +“Beastly hard luck,” he said. “We don’t want to go a +bit—fancy school after this! Ugh! But there are three of us, so it +isn’t so bad. It wouldn’t matter if Dad was at home, for you. But I +must say it’s lowdown to be leaving you all by your lonely little +self.” +</p> + +<p> +Norah struggled hard with that abominable lump in her throat, despising herself +heartily. +</p> + +<p> +“Brownie’ll be awfully good to you,” went on Jim. +“You’ll have to buck up, you know, old girl, and not let yourself +get dull. You practise like one o’clock; or make jam, or something; or +get Brownie to let you do some cooking. Anything to keep you ‘from +broodin’ on bein’ a dorg,’ as old David Harum says. +There’s all the pets to look after, you know—you’ve got to +keep young black Billy up to the mark, or he’ll never feed ’em +properly, and if you let him alone he changes the water in the dishes when the +last lot’s dry. And, by George, Norah”—Jim had a bright +idea—“Dad told me last night he meant to shift those new bullocks +into the Long Plain. Ten to one he forgot all about it, going away so suddenly. +You’ll have to see to it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d like that,” said Norah, feeling doubtfully for her +voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Rather—best thing you can do,” Jim said eagerly. “Take +Billy with you, of course, and a dog. They’re not wild, and I don’t +think you’ll have any trouble—only be very careful to get ’em +all—examine all the scrub in the paddock. Billy knows how many there +ought to be. I did know, but, of course, I’ve forgotten. Of course Dad +may have left directions with one of the men about it already.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I could go too, couldn’t I?” queried Norah. +</p> + +<p> +“Rather. They’d be glad to have you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’ll be glad of something to do. I wasn’t looking +forward to to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Jim, “I know you weren’t. Never mind, you +keep busy. You might drive into Cunjee with Brownie on Tuesday—probably +you’d get a letter from Dad a day earlier, and hear when he’s +coming home—and if he says he’s coming home on Thursday, Wednesday +won’t seem a bit long. You’ll be as right as ninepence if you buck +up.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will, old chap. Only I wish you weren’t going.” +</p> + +<p> +“So do I,” said Jim, “and so do the other chaps. They want to +come again some holidays.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I hope you’ll bring them.” +</p> + +<p> +“My word! I will. Do you know, Norah, they think you’re no end of a +brick?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do they?” said Norah, much pleased. “Did they tell +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“They’re always telling me. Now, you go to bed, old girl.” +</p> + +<p> +He rose and pulled her to her feet. +</p> + +<p> +Norah put her arms round his neck—a very rare caress. +</p> + +<p> +“Good night,” she said. “I—I do love you, Jimmy!” +</p> + +<p> +Jim hugged her. +</p> + +<p> +“Same here, old chap,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +There was such scurrying in the early morning. Daylight revealed many things +that had been overlooked in the packing overnight, and they had to be crammed +in, somehow. Other things were remembered which had not been packed, and which +must be found, and diligent hunt had to be made for them. +</p> + +<p> +Norah was everybody’s mate, running on several errands at once, finding +Jim’s school cap near Harry’s overcoat while she was looking for +Wally’s cherished snake-skin. Her strong brown hands pulled tight the +straps of bulging bags on which their perspiring owners knelt, puffing. After +the said bags were closed and carried out to the buggy, she found the three +toothbrushes, and crammed each, twisted in newspaper, into its owner’s +pocket. She had no time to think she was dull. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Brown, who had been up since dawn, had packed a huge hamper, and +superintended its placing in the buggy. It was addressed to “Master +James, Master Harry, and Master Wallie,” and later Jim reported that its +contents were such as to make the chaps at school speechless—a compliment +which filled Mrs. Brown with dismay, and a wish that she had put in less pastry +and perhaps a little castor oil. At present she felt mildly safe about it and +watched it loaded with a sigh of relief. +</p> + +<p> +“Boom-m-m!” went the big gong, and the boys rushed to the +dining-room, where Norah was ready to pour out tea. +</p> + +<p> +“You have some, Norah,” said Harry, retaining his position close to +the teapot, whence Wally had vainly striven to dislodge him. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, old girl, you eat some breakfast,” commanded Jim. +</p> + +<p> +Norah flashed a smile at him over the cosy. +</p> + +<p> +“Lots of time afterwards,” she said, a little sadly. +</p> + +<p> +“No time like the present.” Wally took a huge bite out of a scone, +and surveyed the relic with interest. Someone put a smoking plateful before +him, and his further utterances were lost in eggs and bacon. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Brown flitted about like a stout guardian angel, keeping an especially +watchful eye on Jim. If the supply on his plate lessened perceptibly, it was +replenished with more, like manna from above. To his laughing protests she +merely murmured, “Poor dear lamb!” whereat Wally and Harry laughed +consumedly, and Jim blushed. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you’ve beaten me at last, Brownie,” Jim declared +finally. He waved away a chop which was about to descend upon his plate. +“No truly, Brownie dear; there are limits! Tea? No thanks, Norah, +I’ve had about a dozen cups already, I believe! You fellows ready?” +</p> + +<p> +They were, and the table was briskly deserted. +</p> + +<p> +There was a final survey of the boys’ room, which resembled a rubbish +heap, owing to vigorous packing. +</p> + +<p> +Everybody ran wildly about looking for something. +</p> + +<p> +Wally was found searching frantically for his cap, which Norah +discovered—on his head. There was a hurried journey to the kitchen, to +bid the servants “Good-bye.” +</p> + +<p> +The buggy wheels scrunched the gravel before the hall door. The overseer +coo-ee’d softly. +</p> + +<p> +“All aboard!” +</p> + +<p> +“All right, Evans!” Jim appeared in the doorway, staggering under a +big Gladstone bag. Billy, similarly laden, followed. His black face was +unusually solemn. +</p> + +<p> +“Chuck ’em in, Billy. Come on, you chaps!” +</p> + +<p> +The chaps appeared. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-bye, Norah. It’s been grand!” Harry pumped her hand +vigorously. +</p> + +<p> +“Wish you were coming!” said Wally dismally. “Good-bye. Write +to us, won’t you, Norah?” +</p> + +<p> +“Now then, Master Jim!” Evans glanced at his watch. +</p> + +<p> +“Right oh!” said Jim. He put his arm round the little girl’s +shoulders and looked keenly into her face. There was no hint of breaking down. +Norah met his gaze steadily and smiled at him. But the boy knew. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-bye, little chap,” he said, and kissed her. +“You’ll keep your pecker up?” +</p> + +<p> +She nodded. “Good-bye, Jimmy, old boy.” +</p> + +<p> +Jim sprang into the buggy. +</p> + +<p> +“All right, Evans.” +</p> + +<p> +They whirled down the drive. Looking back, waving their caps, the boys carried +away a memory of a brave little figure, erect, smiling and lonely on the +doorstep. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"></a> +CHAPTER XII.<br/> +THE WINFIELD MURDER</h2> + +<p> +The next few days went by slowly enough. +</p> + +<p> +Norah followed faithfully all Jim’s plans for her amusement. She +practised, did some cooking, and helped Mrs. Brown preserve apricots; then +there were the pets to look to and, best of all, the bullocks to move from one +paddock to another. It was an easy job, and Evans was quite willing to leave it +to Norah, Billy and a dog. The trio made a great business of it, and managed +almost to forget loneliness in the work of hunting through the scrub and +chasing the big, sleepy half-fat beasts out upon the clear plain. There were +supposed to be forty-four in the paddock, but Norah and Billy mustered +forty-five, and were exceedingly proud of themselves in consequence. +</p> + +<p> +Next day Norah persuaded Mrs. Brown to allow herself to be driven into Cunjee. +There was nothing particular to go for, except that, as Norah said, they would +get the mail a day earlier; but Mrs. Brown was not likely to refuse anything +that would chase the look of loneliness from her charge’s face. +Accordingly they set off after an early lunch, Norah driving the pair of brown +ponies in a light single buggy that barely held her and her by no means +fairy-like companion. +</p> + +<p> +The road was good and they made the distance in excellent time, arriving in +Cunjee to see the daily train puff its way out of the station. Then they +separated, as Norah had no opinion whatever of Mrs. Brown’s +shopping—principally in drapers’ establishments, which this bush +maiden hated cordially. So Mrs. Brown, unhampered, plunged into mysteries of +flannel and sheeting, while Norah strolled up the principal street and +exchanged greetings with those she knew. +</p> + +<p> +She paused by the door of a blacksmith’s shop, for the smith and she were +old friends, and Norah regarded Blake as quite the principal person of Cunjee. +Generally there were horses to be looked at, but just now the shop was empty, +and Blake came forward to talk to the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Seen the p’lice out your way?” he asked presently, after the +weather, the crops, and the dullness of business had been exhausted as topics. +</p> + +<p> +“Police?” queried Norah. “No. Why?” +</p> + +<p> +“There was two mounted men rode out in your direction yesterday,” +Blake answered. “They’re on the track of that Winfield murderer, +they believe.” +</p> + +<p> +“What was that?” asked Norah blankly. “I never heard of +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not heard of the Winfield murder! Why, you can’t read the papers, +missy, surely?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; of course I don’t,” Norah said. “Daddy +doesn’t like me to read everyday ones.” +</p> + +<p> +Blake nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I s’pose not,” he said. “You’re too young to +worry your little head about murders and suchlike. But everybody was +talkin’ about the Winfield affair, so I sorter took it for granted that +you’d know about it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I don’t,” said Norah. “What is it all +about?” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s not very much I can tell you about it, missy,” Blake +said, scratching his head and looking down at the grave lace. “Nobody +knows much about it. +</p> + +<p> +“Winfield’s a little bit of a place about twenty miles from +’ere, you know—right in the bush and away from any rail or coach +line. On’y a couple o’ stores, an’ a hotel, an’ a few +houses. Don’t suppose many people out o’ this district ever heard +of it, it’s that quiet an’ asleep. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, there was two ol’ men livin’ together in a little hut +a mile or so from the Winfield township. Prospectors, they said they +were—an’ there was an idea that they’d done pretty well at +the game, an’ had a bit of gold hidden somewhere about their camp. They +kept very much to themselves, an’ never mixed with anyone—when one +o’ them came into the township for stores he’d get his business +done an’ clear out as quick as possible. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, about a month ago two fellows called Bowen was riding along a bush +track between Winfield an’ their camp when they came across one o’ +the ol’ mates peggin’ along the track for all he was worth. They +was surprised to see that he was carryin’ a big swag, an’ was +apparently on a move. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Hullo, Harris!’ they says—‘leavin’ the +district?’ He was a civil spoken ol’ chap as a rule, so they was +rather surprised when he on’y give a sort o’ grunt, an’ +hurried on. +</p> + +<p> +“They was after cattle, and pretty late the same day they found +themselves near the hut where the two ol’ chaps lived, an’ as they +was hungry an’ thirsty, they reckoned they’d call in an’ see +if they could get a feed. So they rode up and tied their horses to a tree and +walked up to the hut. No one answered their knock, so they opened the door, +an’ walked in. There, lyin’ on his bunk, was ol’ Waters. They +spoke to him, but he didn’t answer. You see, missy, he couldn’t, +bein’ dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dead!” said Norah, her eyes dilating. +</p> + +<p> +Blake nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Stone dead,” he said. “They thought at first he’d just +died natural, as there was no mark o’ violence on ’im, but when +they got a doctor to examine ’im he soon found out very different. The +poor ol’ feller ’ad been poisoned, missy; the doctor said ’e +must a’ bin dead twelve hours when the Bowens found ’im. Everything +of value was gone from the hut along with his mate, old Harris—the +black-hearted villain he must be!” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, do they think he killed the other man?” Norah asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Seems pretty certain, missy,” Blake replied. “In fact, there +don’t seem the shadder of a doubt. He was comin’ straight from the +hut when the Bowens met ’im—an’ he’d cleared out the +whole place, gold an’ all. Oh, there ain’t any doubt about Mr. +Harris bein’ the guilty party. The only thing doubtful is Mr. +Harris’s whereabouts.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have the police been looking for him?” asked Norah. +</p> + +<p> +“Huntin’ high an’ low—without any luck. He seems to +have vanished off the earth. They’ve bin follerin’ up first one +clue and then another without any result. Now the last is that he’s been +seen somewhere the other side of your place, an’ two troopers have gone +out to-day to see if there’s any truth in the rumour.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think it’s awfully exciting,” Norah said, “but +I’m terribly sorry for the poor man who was killed. What a wicked old +wretch the other must be!—his own mate, too! I wonder what he was like. +Did you know him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’ve seen old Harris a few times—not often,” +Blake replied. “Still, he wasn’t the sort of old man you’d +forget. Not a bad-looking old chap, he was. Very tall and well set up, with +piercin’ blue eyes, long white hair an’ beard, an’ a pretty +uppish way of talkin’. I don’t fancy anyone about here knew him +very well—he had a way of keepin’ to himself. One thing, +there’s plenty lookin’ out for him now.” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose so,” Norah said. “I wonder will he really get +away?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mighty small chance,” said Blake. “Still, it’s +wonderful how he’s managed to keep out of sight for so long. Of course, +once in the bush it might be hard to find him—but sooner or later he must +come out to some township for tucker, an’ then everyone will be +lookin’ out for him. They may have got him up your way by now, missy. Is +your Pa at home?” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s coming home in a day or two,” Norah said; +“perhaps to-morrow. I hope they won’t find Harris and bring him to +our place.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it all depends on where they find him if they do get him,” +Blake replied. “Possibly they might find the station a handy place to +stop at. However, missy, don’t you worry your head about it—nothing +for you to be frightened about.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, I’m not frightened,” Norah said. “It hasn’t +got anything to do with me. Only I don’t want to see a man who could kill +his mate, that’s all.” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s much like any other man,” said Blake philosophically. +“Say, here’s someone comin’ after you, missy, I think.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought I’d find you here,” exclaimed Mrs. Brown’s +fat, comfortable voice, as its owner puffed her way up the slope leading to the +blacksmith’s. “Good afternoon, Mr. Blake. I’ve finished all +my shopping, Miss Norah, my dear, and the mail’s in, and here’s a +letter for you, as you won’t be sorry to see.” +</p> + +<p> +“From Dad? How lovely!” and Norah, snatching at the grey envelope +with its big, black writing, tore it open hastily. At the first few words, she +uttered a cry of delight. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, he’s coming home to-morrow, Brownie—only another day! He +says he thinks it’s time he was home, with murderers roaming about the +district!” and Norah executed a few steps of a Highland fling, greatly to +the edification of the blacksmith. +</p> + +<p> +“Dear sakes alive!” said Mrs. Brown, truculently. “I think +there are enough of us at the station to look after you, murderer or no +murderer—not as ’ow but that ’Arris must be a nasty creature! +Still I’m very glad your Pa’s coming, Miss Norah, because nothing +do seem right when he’s away—an’ it’s dull for you, all +alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“Master Jim gone back, I s’pose?” queried Blake. +</p> + +<p> +“Yesterday,” Norah added. +</p> + +<p> +“Then you must be lonely,” the old blacksmith said, taking +Norah’s small brown hand, and holding it for a moment in his horny fist +very much as if he feared it were an eggshell, and not to be dropped. +“Master Jim’s growing a big fellow, too—goin’ to be as +big a man as his father, I believe. Well, good-bye, missy, and don’t +forget to come in next time you’re in the township.” +</p> + +<p> +There was nothing further to detain them in Cunjee, and very soon the ponies +were fetched from the stables, and they were bowling out along the smooth metal +road that wound its way across the plain, and Norah was mingling excited little +outbursts of delight over her father’s return with frequent searches into +a big bag of sweets which Mrs. Brown had thoughtfully placed on the seat of the +buggy. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know why Blake wanted to go telling you about that nasty +murderer,” Mrs. Brown said. They were ten miles from Cunjee, and the +metal road had given place to a bush track, in very fair order. +</p> + +<p> +“Why not?” asked Norah, with the carelessness of twelve years. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, tales of murders aren’t the things for young ladies’ +ears,” Mrs. Brown said primly. “Your Pa never tells you such +things. The paper’s been full of this murder, but I would ’a’ +scorned to talk to you about it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think Blake meant any harm,” said Norah. “He +didn’t say so very much. I don’t suppose he’d have mentioned +it, only that Mr. Harris is supposed to have come our way, and even that +doesn’t seem certain.” +</p> + +<p> +“’Arris ’as baffled the police,” said Mrs. Brown, with +the solemn pride felt by so many at the worsting of the guardians of the law. +“They don’t reely know anythink about his movements, that’s +my belief. Why, it’s weeks since he was seen. This yarn about his +comin’ this way is on’y got up to ’ide the fact that they +don’t know a thing about it. I don’t b’lieve he’s +anywhere within coo-ee of our place. Might be out of the country now, for all +anyone’s sure of.” +</p> + +<p> +“Blake seemed to think he’d really come this way;” Norah +said. +</p> + +<p> +“Blake’s an iggerant man,” said Mrs. Brown loftily. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’ll keep a look-out for him, at any rate,” laughed +Norah. “He ought to be easy enough to find—tall and good-looking +and well set up—whatever that may mean—and long white beard and +hair. He must be a pretty striking-looking sort of old man. I—” And +then recollection swept over Norah like a flood, and her words faltered on her +lips. +</p> + +<p> +Her hand gripped the reins tighter, and she drove on unconsciously. +Blake’s words were beating in her ears. “Not a bad-looking old +chap—very tall and well set up—piercing blue eyes and a pretty +uppish way of talking.” The description had meant nothing to her until +someone whom it fitted all too aptly had drifted across her mental vision. +</p> + +<p> +The Hermit! Even while she felt and told herself that it could not be, the +fatal accuracy of the likeness made her shudder. It was perfect—the tall, +white-haired old man—“not the sort of old man you’d +forget”—with his distinguished look; the piercing blue +eyes—but Norah knew what kindliness lay in their depths—the gentle +refined voice, so different from most of the rough country voices. It would +answer to Blake’s “pretty uppish way of talking.” Anyone who +had read the description would, on meeting the Hermit, immediately identify him +as the man for whom the police were searching. Norah’s common sense told +her that. +</p> + +<p> +A wave of horror swept over the little girl, and the hands gripping the reins +trembled. Common sense might tell one tale, but every instinct of her heart +told a very different one. That gentle-faced old man, with a world of kindness +in his tired eyes—he the man who killed his sleeping mate for a handful +of gold! Norah set her square little chin. She would not—could +not—believe it. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, you’re very quiet, dearie.” Mrs. Brown glanced +inquiringly at her companion. “A minute ago you was chatterin’, and +now you’ve gone down flat, like old soda-water. Is anything wrong?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I’m all right, Brownie. I was only thinking,” said +Norah, forcing a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Too many sweeties, I expect,” said Mrs. Brown, laying a heavy hand +on the bag and impounding it for future reference. “Mustn’t have +you get indigestion, an’ your Pa comin’ home to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +Norah laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, did you ever know me to have indigestion in my life?” she +queried. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, perhaps not,” Mrs. Brown admitted. “Still, you never +can tell; it don’ do to pride oneself on anything. If it ain’t +indigestion, you’ve been thinking too much of this narsty murder.” +</p> + +<p> +Norah flicked the off pony deliberately with her whip. +</p> + +<p> +“Darkie is getting disgracefully lazy,” she said. “He’s +not doing a bit of the work. Nigger’s worth two of him.” The +injured Darkie shot forward with a bound, and Mrs. Brown grabbed the side of +the buggy hastily, and in her fears at the pace for the ensuing five minutes +forgot her too inconvenient cross-examination. +</p> + +<p> +Norah settled back into silence, her forehead puckered with a frown. She had +never in her careless little life been confronted by such a problem as the one +that now held her thoughts. That the startling similarity between her new-made +friend and the description of the murderer should fasten upon her mind, was +unavoidable. She struggled against the idea as disloyal, but finally decided to +think it out calmly. +</p> + +<p> +The descriptions tallied. So much was certain. The verbal likeness of one man +was an exact word painting of the other, so far as it went, +“though,” as poor Norah reflected, “you can’t always +tell a person just by hearing what he’s like.” Then there was no +denying that the conduct of the Hermit would excite suspicion. He was camping +alone in the deepest recesses of a lonely tract of scrub; he had been there +some weeks, and she had had plenty of proof that he was taken aback at being +discovered and wished earnestly that no future prowlers might find their way to +his retreat. She recalled his shrinking from the boys, and his hasty refusal to +go to the homestead. He had said in so many words that he desired nothing so +much as to be left alone—any one would have gathered that he feared +discovery. They had all been conscious of the mystery about him. Her thoughts +flew back to the half-laughing conversation between Harry and Wally, when they +had actually speculated as to why he was hiding. Putting the case fairly and +squarely, Norah had to admit that it looked black against the Hermit. +</p> + +<p> +Against it, what had she? No proof; only a remembrance of two honest eyes +looking sadly at her; of a face that had irresistibly drawn her confidence and +friendship; of a voice whose tones had seemed to echo sincerity and kindness. +It was absolutely beyond Norah’s power to believe that the hand that had +held hers so gently could have been the one to strike to death an unsuspecting +mate. Her whole nature revolted against the thought that her friend could be so +base. +</p> + +<p> +“He was in trouble,” Norah said, over and over again, in her uneasy +mind; “he was unhappy. But I know he wasn’t wicked. Why, Bobs made +friends with him!” +</p> + +<p> +The thought put fresh confidence in her mind; Bobs always knew “a good +sort.” +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t say anything,” she decided at last, as they wheeled +round the corner of the homestead. “If they knew there was a tall old man +there, they’d go and hunt him out, and annoy him horribly. I know +he’s all right. I’ll hold my tongue about him altogether—even +to Dad.” +</p> + +<p> +The coach dropped Mr. Linton next day at the Cross Roads, where a little +figure, clad in white linen, sat in the buggy, holding the brown ponies, while +the dusky Billy was an attendant sprite on his piebald mare. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, my little girl, it’s good to see you again,” Mr. +Linton said, putting his Gladstone bag into the buggy and receiving undismayed +a small avalanche of little daughter upon his neck. “Steady, +dear—mind the ponies.” He jumped in, and put his arm round her. +“Everything well?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, all right, Daddy. I’m so glad to have you back!” +</p> + +<p> +“Not gladder than I am to get back, my little lass,” said her +father. “Good-day, Billy. Let ’em go, Norah.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you see Jim?” asked Norah, as the ponies bounded forward. +</p> + +<p> +“No—missed him. I had only an hour in town, and went out to the +school, to find Master Jim had gone down the river—rowing practice. I was +sorry to miss him; but it wasn’t worth waiting another day in +town.” +</p> + +<p> +“Jim would be sorry,” said Norah thoughtfully. She herself was +rather glad: had Jim seen his father, most probably he would have mentioned the +Hermit. Now she had only his letters to fear, and as Jim’s letters were +of the briefest nature and very far apart, it was not an acute danger. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I suppose he would,” Mr. Linton replied. “I regretted +not having sent a telegram to say I was going to the school—it slipped my +memory. I had rather a rush, you know. I suppose you’ve been pretty dull, +my girlie?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh it was horrid after the boys went,” Norah said. “I +didn’t know what to do with myself, and the house was terribly quiet. It +was hard luck that you had to go away too.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I was very sorry it happened so,” her father said; “had +we been alone together I’d have taken you with me, but we’ll have +the trip some other time. Did you have a good day’s fishing on +Saturday?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Norah, flushing a little guiltily—the natural +impulse to tell all about their friend the Hermit was so strong. “We had +a lovely day, and caught ever so many fish—didn’t get home till +ever so late. The only bad part was finding you away when we got back.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’m glad you had good luck, at any rate,” Mr. Linton +said. “So Anglers’ Bend is keeping up its reputation, eh? +We’ll have to go out there, I think, Norah; what do you say about it? +Would you and Billy like a three days’ jaunt on fishing bent?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it would be glorious, Daddy! Camping out?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, of course—since we’d be away three days. In this +weather it would be a very good thing to do, I think.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are a blessed Daddy,” declared his daughter rubbing her cheek +against his shoulder. “I never knew anyone with such beautiful +ideas.” She jigged on her seat with delight. “Oh, and, Daddy, +I’ll be able to put you on to such a splendid new hole for +fishing!” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you, indeed?” said Mr. Linton, smiling at the flushed face. +“That’s good, dear. But how did you discover it?” +</p> + +<p> +Norah’s face fell suddenly. She hesitated and looked uncomfortable. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” she said slowly; “I—we—found it out last +trip.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, we’ll go, Norah—as soon as I can fix it up,” +said her father. “And now, have you heard anything about the Winfield +murderer?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not a thing, Daddy. Brownie thinks it’s just a yarn that he was +seen about here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I don’t think so at all,” Mr. Linton said. “A good +many people have the idea, at any rate—of course they may be wrong. +I’m afraid Brownie is rather too ready to form wild opinions on some +matters. To tell the truth, I was rather worried at the reports—I +don’t fancy the notion of escaped gentry of that kind wandering round in +the vicinity of my small daughter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I don’t think you need have worried,” said Norah, +laughing up at him; “but all the same, I’m not a bit sorry you did, +if it brought you home a day earlier, Dad!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it certainly did,” said Mr. Linton, pulling her ear; +“but I’m not sorry either. I can’t stand more than a day or +two in town. As for the murderer, I’m not going to waste any thought on +him now that I am here. There’s the gate, and here comes Billy like a +whirlwind to open it.” +</p> + +<p> +They bowled through the gate and up the long drive, under the arching boughs of +the big gum trees, that formed a natural avenue on each side. At the garden +gate Mrs. Brown stood waiting, with a broad smile of welcome, and a chorus of +barks testified to the arrival of sundry dogs. “It’s a real +home-coming,” Mr. Linton said as he walked up the path, his hand on +Norah’s shoulder—and the little girl’s answering smile needed +no words. They turned the corner by the big rose bush, and came within view of +the house, and suddenly Norah’s smile faded. A trooper in dusty uniform +stood on the doorstep. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, that’s a pleasant object to greet a man,” Mr. Linton +said, as the policeman turned and came to meet him with a civil salute. He +nodded as the man came up. “Did you want me?” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s only about this ’ere murderer, sir,” said the +trooper. “Some of us is on a sort of a scent, but we haven’t got +fairly on to his tracks yet. I’ve ridden from Mulgoa to-day, and I came +to ask if your people had seen anything of such a chap passing—as a +swaggie or anything?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not that I know of,” said Mr. Linton. “What is he +like?” +</p> + +<p> +“Big fellow—old—plenty of white hair and beard, though, of +course, they’re probably cut off by this time. Very decent-looking old +chap,” said the trooper reflectively—“an’ a good way of +speakin’.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’ve seen no such man,” said Mr. Linton +decidedly—“of course, though, I don’t see all the +‘travellers’ who call. Perhaps Mrs. Brown can help you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not me sir,” said Mrs. Brown, with firmness. “There +ain’t been no such a person—and you may be sure there ain’t +none I don’t see! Fact is, when I saw as ’ow the murderer was +supposed to be in this districk, I made inquiries amongst the men—the +white hands, that is—and none of them had seen any such man as the papers +described. I reckon ’e may just as well be in any other districk as +this—I s’pose the poor p’lice must say ’e’s +somewheres!” +</p> + +<p> +She glared defiantly at the downcast trooper. +</p> + +<p> +“Wish you had the job of findin’ him, mum,” said that +individual. “Well, sir, there’s no one else I could make inquiries +of, is there?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Brown seems to have gone the rounds,” Mr. Linton said. +“I really don’t think there’s any one else—unless my +small daughter here can help you,” he added laughingly. +</p> + +<p> +But Norah had slipped away, foreseeing possible questioning. +</p> + +<p> +The trooper smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t think I need worry such a small witness,” he said. +“No, I’ll just move on, Mr. Linton. I’m beginning to think +I’m on a wild-goose chase.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"></a> +CHAPTER XIII.<br/> +THE CIRCUS</h2> + +<p> +The days went by, but no further word of the Winfield murderer came to the +anxious ears of the little girl at Billabong homestead. Norah never read the +papers, and could not therefore satisfy her mind by their reports; but all her +inquiries were met by the same reply, “Nothing fresh.” The police +were still in the district—so much she knew, for she had caught glimpses +of them when out riding with her father. The stern-looking men in dusty +uniforms were unusual figures in those quiet parts. But Norah could not manage +to discover if they had searched the scrub that hid the Hermit’s simple +camp; and the mystery of the Winfield murder seemed as far from being cleared +up as ever. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile there was plenty to distract her mind from such disquieting matters. +The station work happened to be particularly engrossing just then, and day +after day saw Norah in the saddle, close to her father’s big black mare, +riding over hills and plains, bringing up the slow sheep or galloping +gloriously after cattle that declined to be mustered. There were visits of +inspection to be made to the farthest portions of the run, and busy days in the +yards, when the men worked at drafting the stock, and Norah sat perched on the +high “cap” of a fence and, watching with all her eager little soul +in her eyes, wished heartily that she had been born a boy. Then there were a +couple of trips with Mr. Linton to outlying townships, and on one of these +occasions Norah had a piece of marvellous luck, for there was actually a circus +in Cunjee—a real, magnificent circus, with lions and tigers and hyaenas, +and a camel, and other beautiful animals, and, best of all, a splendid elephant +of meek and mild demeanour. It was the elephant that broke up Norah’s +calmness. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Daddy!” she said. “Daddy! Oh, can’t we +stay?” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Linton laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“I was expecting that,” he said. “Stay? And what would +Brownie be thinking?” +</p> + +<p> +Norah’s face fell. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” she said. “I’d forgotten Brownie. I s’pose +it wouldn’t do. But isn’t it a glorious elephant, Daddy?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is, indeed,” said Mr. Linton, laughing. “I think +it’s too glorious to leave, girlie. Fact is, I had an inkling the circus +was to be here, so I told Brownie not to expect us until she saw us. She put a +basket in the buggy, with your tooth-brush, I think.” +</p> + +<p> +The face of his small daughter was sufficient reward. +</p> + +<p> +“Daddy!” she said. “Oh, but you are the MOST Daddy!” +Words failed her at that point. +</p> + +<p> +Norah said that it was a most wonderful “spree.” They had dinner at +the hotel, where the waiter called her “Miss Linton,” and in all +ways behaved precisely as if she were grown up, and after dinner she and her +father sat on the balcony while Mr. Linton smoked and Norah watched the +population arriving to attend the circus. They came from all +quarters—comfortable old farm wagons, containing whole families; a few +smart buggies; but the majority came on horseback, old as well as young. The +girls rode in their dresses, or else had slipped on habit skirts over their +gayer attire, with great indifference as to whether it happened to be crushed, +and they had huge hats, trimmed with all the colours of the rainbow. Norah did +not know much about dress, but it seemed to her theirs was queer. But one and +all looked so happy and excited that dress was the last thing that mattered. +</p> + +<p> +It seemed to Norah a long while before Mr. Linton shook the ashes from his pipe +deliberately and pulled out his watch. She was inwardly dancing with +impatience. +</p> + +<p> +“Half-past seven,” remarked her father, shutting up his watch with +a click. “Well, I suppose we’d better go, Norah. All ready, +dear?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Daddy. Must I wear gloves?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, not that I know of,” said her father, looking puzzled. +“Hardly necessary, I think. I don’t wear ’em. Do you want +to?” +</p> + +<p> +“Goodness—no!” said his daughter hastily. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, that’s all right,” said Mr. Linton. “Stow them +in my pocket and come along.” +</p> + +<p> +Out in the street there were unusual signs of bustle. People were hurrying +along the footpath. The blare of brass instruments came from the big circus +tent, round which was lingering every small boy of Cunjee who could not gain +admission. Horses were tied to adjoining fences, considerably disquieted by the +brazen strains of the band. It was very cheerful and inspiring, and Norah +capered gently as she trotted along by her father. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Linton gave up his tickets at the first tent, and they passed in to view +the menagerie—a queer collection, but wonderful enough in the eyes of +Cunjee. The big elephant held pride of place, as he stood in his corner and +sleepily waved his trunk at the aggravating flies. Norah loved him from the +first, and in a moment was stroking his trunk, somewhat to her father’s +anxiety. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope he’s safe?” he asked an attendant. +</p> + +<p> +“Bless you, yes, sir,” said that worthy, resplendent in dingy +scarlet uniform. “He alwuz knows if people ain’t afraid of him. Try +him with this, missy.” “This” was an apple, and Jumbo deigned +to accept it at Norah’s hands, and crunched it serenely. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s just dear,” said Norah, parting reluctantly from the +huge swaying brute and giving him a final pat as she went. +</p> + +<p> +“Better than Bobs?” asked her father. +</p> + +<p> +“Pooh!” said Norah loftily. “What’s this rum +thing?” +</p> + +<p> +“A wildebeest,” read her father. “He doesn’t look like +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pretty tame beast, I think,” Norah observed, surveying the +stolid-looking animal before her. “Show me something really wild, +Daddy.” +</p> + +<p> +“How about this chap?” asked Mr. Linton. +</p> + +<p> +They were before the tiger’s cage, and the big yellow brute was walking +up and down with long stealthy strides, his great eyes roving over the curious +faces in front of him. Some one poked a stick at him—an attention which +met an instant roar and spring on the tiger’s part, and a quick, and +stinging rebuke from an attendant, before which the poker of the stick fled +precipitately. The crowd, which had jumped back as one man, pressed nearer to +the cage, and the tiger resumed his quick, silent prowl. But his eyes no longer +roved over the faces. They remained fixed upon the man who had provoked him. +</p> + +<p> +“How do you like him?” Mr. Linton asked his daughter. +</p> + +<p> +Norah hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s not nice, of course,” she said. “But I’m so +awfully sorry for him, aren’t you, Daddy? It does seem horrible—a +great, splendid thing like that shut up for always in that little box of a +cage. You feel he really ought to have a great stretch of jungle to roam +in.” +</p> + +<p> +“And eat men in? I think he’s better where he is.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you’d think the world was big enough for him to have a place +apart from men altogether,” said Norah, holding to her point sturdily. +“Somewhere that isn’t much wanted—a sandy desert, or a spare +Alp! This doesn’t seem right, somehow. I think I’ve seen enough +animals, Daddy, and it’s smelly here. Let’s go into the +circus.” +</p> + +<p> +The circus tent was fairly crowded as Norah and her father made their way in +and took the seats reserved for them, under the direction of another official +in dingy scarlet. Round the ring the tiers of seats rose abruptly, each tier a +mass of eager, interested faces. A lame seller of fruit and drinks hobbled +about crying his wares; at intervals came the “pop” of a lemonade +bottle, and there was a steady crunching of peanut shells. The scent of orange +peel rose over the circus smell—that weird compound of animal and sawdust +and acetylene lamps. In the midst of all was the ring, with its surface banked +up towards the outer edge. +</p> + +<p> +They had hardly taken their seats when the band suddenly struck up in its perch +near the entrance, and the company entered to the inspiring strains. First came +the elephant, very lazy and stately—gorgeously caparisoned now, with a +gaily attired “mahout” upon his neck. Behind him came the camel; +and the cages with the other occupants of the menagerie, looking either bored +or fierce. They circled round the ring and then filed out. +</p> + +<p> +The band struck up a fresh strain and in cantered a lovely lady on a chestnut +horse. She wore a scarlet hat and habit, and looked to Norah very like a +Christmas card. Round the ring she dashed gaily, and behind her came another +lady equally beautiful in a green habit, on a black horse; and a third, wearing +a habit of pale blue plush who managed a piebald horse. Then came some girls in +bright frocks, on beautiful ponies; and some boys, in tights, on other ponies; +and then men, also in tights of every colour in the rainbow, who rode round +with bored expressions, as if it were really too slow a thing merely to sit on +a horse’s back, instead of pirouetting there upon one foot. They flashed +round once or twice and were gone, and Norah sat back and gasped, feeling that +she had had a glimpse into another world—as indeed she had. +</p> + +<p> +A little figure whirled into the ring—a tiny girl on a jet-black pony. +She was sitting sideways at first, but as the pony settled into its stride +round the ring she suddenly leaped to her feet and, standing poised, kissed her +hands gaily to the audience. Then she capered first on one foot, then on +another; she sat down, facing the tail, and lay flat along the pony’s +back; she assumed every position except the natural one. She leapt to the +ground (to Norah’s intense horror, who imagined she didn’t mean +to), and, running fiercely at the pony, sprang on his back again, while he +galloped the harder. Lastly, she dropped a handkerchief, which she easily +recovered by the simple expedient of hanging head downwards, suspended by one +foot, and then galloped out of the ring, amid the frantic applause of Cunjee. +</p> + +<p> +“Could you do that, Norah?” laughed Mr. Linton. +</p> + +<p> +“Me?” said Norah amazedly; “me? Oh, fancy me ever thinking I +could ride a bit!” +</p> + +<p> +One of the lovely ladies, in a glistening suit of black, covered with spangles, +next entered. She also preferred to ride standing, but was by no means idle. A +gentleman in the ring obligingly handed her up many necessaries—plates +and saucers and knives—and she threw these about the air, as she galloped +with great apparent carelessness, yet never failed to catch each just as it +seemed certain to fall. Tiring of this pursuit, she flung them all back at the +gentleman with deadly aim, while he, resenting nothing, caught them cleverly, +and disposed of them to a clown who stood by, open-mouthed. Then the gentleman +hung bright ribbons across the ring, apparently with the unpleasant intention +of sweeping the lady from her horse—an intention which she frustrated by +lightly leaping over each in turn, while her horse galloped beneath it. +Finally, the gentleman—whose ideas really seemed most +unfriendly—suddenly confronted her with a great paper-covered hoop, the +very sight of which would have made an ordinary horse shy wildly—but even +at this obstacle the lady did not lose courage. Instead, she leaped straight +through the hoop, paper and all, and was carried out by her faithful steed, +amidst yells of applause. +</p> + +<p> +Norah gasped. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, isn’t it perfectly lovely, Daddy!” she said. +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps you boys and girls who live in cities, or near townships where +travelling companies pay yearly visits, can have no idea of what this first +circus meant to this little bush maid, who had lived all her twelve years +without seeing anything half so wonderful. Perhaps, too, you are lucky to have +so many chances of seeing things—but it is something to possess nowadays, +even at twelve, the unspoiled, fresh mind that Norah brought to her first +circus. +</p> + +<p> +Everything was absolutely real to her. The clown was a being almost too good +for this world, seeing that his whole time was spent in making people laugh +uproariously, and that he was so wonderfully unselfish in the way he allowed +himself to be kicked and knocked about—always landing in positions so +excruciatingly droll that you quite forgot to ask if he were hurt. All the +ladies who galloped round the ring, and did such marvellous things, treating a +mettled steed as though he were as motionless as a kitchen table, seemed to +Norah models of beauty and grace. There was one who set her heart beating by +her daring, for she not only leaped through a paper-covered hoop, but through +three, one after the other, and then—marvel of marvels—through one +on which the paper was alight and blazing fiercely! Norah held her breath, +expecting to see her scorched and smouldering at the very least; but the heroic +rider galloped on, without seeming so much as singed. Almost as wonderful was +the total indifference of the horses to the strange sights around them. +</p> + +<p> +“Bobs would be off his head!” said Norah. +</p> + +<p> +She was especially enchanted with a small boy and girl who rode in on the same +brown pony, and had all sorts of capers, as much off the pony’s back as +upon it. Not that it troubled them to be off, because they simply ran, +together, at the pony, and landed simultaneously, standing on his back, while +the gallant steed galloped the more furiously. They hung head downwards while +the pony jumped over hurdles, to their great apparent danger; they even +wrestled, standing, and the girl pitched the boy off to the accompaniment of +loud strains from the band and wild cheers from Cunjee. Not that the boy +minded—he picked himself up and raced the pony desperately round the +ring—the girl standing and shrieking encouragement, the pony racing, the +boy scudding in front, until he suddenly turned and bolted out of the ring, the +pony following at his heels, but never quite catching him—so that the boy +really won, after all, which Norah thought was quite as it should be. +</p> + +<p> +Then there were the acrobats—accomplished men in tight clothes—who +cut the most amazing somersaults, and seemed to regard no object as too great +to be leaped over. They brought in the horses, and stood ever so many of them +together, backed up by the elephant, and the leading acrobat jumped over them +all without any apparent effort. After which all the horses galloped off of +their own accord, and “put themselves away” without giving anyone +any trouble. Then the acrobats were hauled up into the top of the tent, where +they swung themselves from rope to rope, and somersaulted through space; and +one man hung head downwards, and caught by the hands another who came flying +through the air as if he belonged there. Once he missed the outstretched hands, +and Norah gasped expecting to see him terribly hurt—instead of which he +fell harmlessly into a big net thoughtfully spread for his reception, and +rebounded like a tennis ball, kissing his hand gracefully to the audience, +after which he again whirled through the air, and this time landed safely in +the hands of the hanging man, who had all this while seemed just as comfortable +head downwards as any other way. There was even a little boy who swung himself +about the tent as fearlessly as the grown men, and cut capers almost as +dangerous as theirs. Norah couldn’t help breathing more freely when the +acrobats bowed their final farewell. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Linton consulted his programme. +</p> + +<p> +“They’re bringing in the lion next,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +The band struck up the liveliest of tunes. All the ring was cleared now, except +for the clown, who suddenly assumed an appearance of great solemnity. He +marched to the edge of the ring and struck an attitude indicative of profound +respect. +</p> + +<p> +In came the elephant, lightly harnessed, and drawing a huge cage on wheels. On +other sides marched attendants in special uniforms, and on the elephant’s +back stood the lion tamer, all glorious in scarlet and gold, so that he was +almost hurtful to the eye. In the cage three lions paced ceaselessly up and +down. The band blared. The people clapped. The clown bowed his forehead into +the dust and said feelingly, “Wow!” +</p> + +<p> +Beside the ring was another, more like a huge iron safe than a ring, as it was +completely walled and roofed with iron bars. The cage was drawn up close beside +this, and the doors slid back. The lions needed no further invitation. They +gave smothered growls as they leaped from their close quarters into this larger +breathing space. Then another door was opened stealthily, and the lion tamer +slipped in, armed with no weapon more deadly than a heavy whip. +</p> + +<p> +Norah did not like it. It seemed to her, to put it mildly, a risky proceeding. +Generally speaking, Norah was by no means a careful soul, and had no opinion of +people who thought over much about looking after their skins; but this business +of lions was not exactly what she had been used to. They appeared to her so +hungry, and so remarkably ill tempered; and the man was as one to three, and +had, apparently, no advantage in the matter of teeth and claws. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t like this game,” said the bush maiden, frowning. +“Is he safe, Daddy?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, he’s all right,” her father answered, smiling. +“These chaps know how to take care of themselves; and the lions know +he’s master. Watch them Norah.” +</p> + +<p> +Norah was already doing that. The lions prowling round the ring, keeping wary +eyes on their tamer, were called to duty by a sharp crack of the whip. +Growling, they took their respective stations—two on the seats of chairs, +the third standing between them, poised on the two chair backs. Then they were +put through a quick succession of tricks. They jumped over chairs and ropes and +each other; they raced round the ring, taking hurdles at intervals; they +balanced on big wooden balls, and pushed them along by quick changes of +position. Then they leaped through hoops, ornamented with fluttering strips of +paper, and clearly did not care for the exercise. And all the while their +stealthy eyes never left those of the tamer. +</p> + +<p> +“How do you like it?” asked Mr. Linton. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s beastly!” said Norah, with surprising suddenness. +“I hate it, Daddy. Such big, beautiful things, and to make them do silly +tricks like these; just as you’d train a kitten!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, they’re nothing more than big cats,” laughed her +father. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t care. It’s—it’s mean, I think. I +don’t wonder they’re cross. And you can see they are, Daddy. If I +was a lion I know I’d want to bite somebody!” +</p> + +<p> +The lions certainly did seem cross. They growled constantly, and were slow to +obey orders. The whip was always cracking, and once or twice a big lioness, who +was especially sulky, received a sharp cut. The outside attendants kept close +to the cage, armed with long iron bars. Norah thought, watching them, that they +were somewhat uneasy. For herself, she knew she would be very glad when the +lion “turn” was over. +</p> + +<p> +The smaller tricks were finished, and the tamer made ready for the grand +“chariot act.” He dragged forward an iron chariot and to it +harnessed the smaller lions with stout straps, coupling the reins to a hook on +the front of the little vehicle. Then he signalled to the lioness to take her +place as driver. +</p> + +<p> +The lioness did not move. She crouched down, watching him with hungry, savage +eyes. The trainer took a step forward, raising his whip. +</p> + +<p> +“You—Queen!” he said sharply. +</p> + +<p> +She growled, not stirring. A sudden movement of the lions behind him made the +trainer glance round quickly. +</p> + +<p> +There was a roar, and a yellow streak cleft the air. A child’s voice +screamed. The tamer’s spring aside was too late, He went down on his +face, the lioness upon him. +</p> + +<p> +Norah’s cry rang out over the circus, just as the lioness +sprang—too late for the trainer, however. The girl was on her feet, +clutching her father. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Daddy—Daddy!” she said. +</p> + +<p> +All was wildest confusion. Men were shouting, women screaming—two girls +fainted, slipping down, motionless, unnoticed heaps, from their seats. Circus +men yelled contradictory orders. Within the ring the lioness crouched over the +fallen man, her angry eyes roving about the disordered tent. +</p> + +<p> +The two lions in the chariot were making furious attempts to break away. +Luckily their harness was strong, and they were so close to the edge of the +ring that the attendants were able, with their iron bars, to keep them in +check. After a few blows they settled down, growling, but subdued. +</p> + +<p> +But to rescue the trainer was not so easy a matter. He lay in the very centre +of the ring, beyond the reach of any weapons; and not a man would venture +within the great cage. The attendants shouted at the lioness, brandished irons, +cracked whips. She heard them unmoved. Once she shifted her position slightly +and a moan came from the man underneath. +</p> + +<p> +“This is awful,” Mr. Linton said. He left his seat in the front row +and went across the ring to the group of white-faced men. “Can’t +you shoot the brute?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“We’d do it in a minute,” the proprietor answered. “But +who’d shoot and take the chance of hitting Joe? Look at the way they +are—it’s ten to one he’d get hit.” He shook his head. +“Well, I guess it’s up to me to go in and tackle +her—I’d get a better shot inside the ring.” He moved forward. +</p> + +<p> +A white-faced woman flung herself upon him and clung to him desperately. Norah +hardly recognised her as the gay lady who had so merrily jumped through the +burning hoops a little while ago. “You shan’t go, Dave!” she +cried, sobbing. “You mustn’t! Think of the kiddies! Joe +hasn’t got a wife and little uns.” +</p> + +<p> +The circus proprietor tried to loosen her hold. “I’ve got to, my +girl,” he said gently. “I can’t leave a man o’ mine to +that brute. It’s my fault—I orter known better than to let him take +her from them cubs to-night. Let go, dear.” He tried to unclinch her +hands from his coat. +</p> + +<p> +“Has she—the lioness—got little cubs?” +</p> + +<p> +It was Norah’s voice, and Mr. Linton started to find her at his side. +Norah, very pale and shaky, with wide eyes, glowing with a great idea. +</p> + +<p> +The circus man nodded. “Two.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wouldn’t she—” Norah’s voice was trembling +almost beyond the power of speech—“wouldn’t she go to them if +you showed them to her—put them in the small cage? My—old cat +would!” +</p> + +<p> +“By the powers!” said the proprietor. “Fetch ’em, +Dick—run.” The clown ran, his grotesque draperies contrasting oddly +enough with his errand. +</p> + +<p> +In an instant he was back, two fluffy yellow heaps in his arms. One whined as +they drew near the cage, and the lioness looked up sharply with a growl. The +clown held the cubs in her view, and she growled again, evidently uneasy. +Beneath her the man was quiet now. +</p> + +<p> +“The cage—quick?” +</p> + +<p> +The big lion cage, its open door communicating with the ring, stood ready. The +clown opened another door and slipped in the protesting cubs. They made for the +further door, but were checked by the stout cords fastened to their collars. He +held them in leash, in full view of the lioness. She growled and moved, but did +not leave her prey. +</p> + +<p> +“Make ’em sing out!” the woman said sharply. Someone handed +the clown an iron rod sharpened at one end. He passed it through the bars, and +prodded a cub on the foot. It whined angrily, and a quick growl came from the +ring. +</p> + +<p> +“Harder, Dick!” +</p> + +<p> +The clown obeyed. There was a sharp, amazed yelp of pain from the cub, and an +answering roar from the mother. Another protesting cry—and then again +that yellow streak as the lioness left her prey and sprang to her baby, with a +deafening roar. The clown tugged the cubs sharply back into the recesses of the +cage as the mother hurled herself through the narrow opening. Behind her the +bars rattled into place and she was restored to captivity. +</p> + +<p> +It was the work of only a moment to rush into the ring, where the tamer lay +huddled and motionless. Kind hands lifted him and carried him away beyond the +performance tent, with its eager spectators. The attendants quickly unharnessed +the two tame lions, and they were removed in another cage, brought in by the +elephant for their benefit. +</p> + +<p> +Norah slipped a hot, trembling hand into her father’s. +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s go, Daddy—I’ve had enough.” +</p> + +<p> +“More than enough, I think,” said Mr. Linton. “Come on, +little girl.” +</p> + +<p> +They slipped out in the wake of the anxious procession that carried the tamer. +As they went, a performing goat and monkey passed them on their way to the +ring, and the clown capered behind them. They heard his cheerful shout, +“Here we are again!” and the laughter of the crowd as the show was +resumed. +</p> + +<p> +“Plucky chap, that clown,” Mr. Linton said. +</p> + +<p> +In the fresh air the men had laid the tamer down gently, and a doctor was +bending over him examining him by the flickering light of torches held by hands +that found it hard to be steady. +</p> + +<p> +“Not so much damaged as he might be,” the doctor announced, rising. +“That shoulder will take a bit of healing, but he looks healthy. His +padded uniform has saved his life. Let’s get him to the private hospital +up the street. Everything necessary is there, and I’d like to have his +shoulder dressed before he regains consciousness.” +</p> + +<p> +The men lifted the improvised stretcher again, and passed on with it. Norah and +her father were following, when a voice called them. The wife of the circus +proprietor ran after them—a strange figure enough, in her scarlet riding +dress, the paint on her face streaked with tear marks. +</p> + +<p> +“I’d like to know who you are,” she said, catching +Norah’s hand. “But for you my man ’ud ’a been in the +ring with that brute. None of us had the sense to think o’ bringin’ +in the cubs. Tell me your name, dearie.” +</p> + +<p> +Norah told her unwillingly. “Nothing to make a fuss over,” she +added, in great confusion. +</p> + +<p> +“I guess you saved Joe’s life, an’ perhaps my Dave’s as +well,” the woman said. “We won’t forget you. Good night, sir, +an’ thank you both.” +</p> + +<p> +Norah had no wish to be thanked, being of opinion that she had done less than +nothing at all. She was feeling rather sick, and—amazing feeling for +Norah—inclined to cry. She was very glad to get into bed at the hotel, +and eagerly welcomed her father’s suggestion that he should sit for a +while in her room. Norah did not know that it was dawn before Mr. Linton left +his watch by the restless sleeper, quiet now, and sought his own couch. +</p> + +<p> +She woke late, from a dream of lions and elephants, and men who moaned softly. +Her father was by her bedside. +</p> + +<p> +“Breakfast, lazy bones,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“How’s the tamer?” queried Norah, sitting up. +</p> + +<p> +“Getting on all right. He wants to see you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Me!” said Norah. “Whatever for?” +</p> + +<p> +“We’ve got to find that out,” said her father, withdrawing. +</p> + +<p> +They found out after breakfast, when a grateful, white-faced man, swathed in +bandages, stammered broken thanks. +</p> + +<p> +“For it was you callin’ out that saved me first,” he said. +“I’d never ’a thought to jump, but I heard you sing out to +me, an’ if I hadn’t she’d a broke my neck, sure. An’ +then it was you thought o’ bringing in the cubs. Well, missy, I +won’t forget you long’s I live.” +</p> + +<p> +The nurse, at his nod, brought out the skin of a young tiger, beautifully +marked and made into a rug. +</p> + +<p> +“If you wouldn’t mind takin’ that from me,” explained +the tamer. “I’d like to feel you had it, an’ I’d like +to shake hands with you, missy.” +</p> + +<p> +Outside the room Norah turned a flushed face to her father. +</p> + +<p> +“Do let’s go home, Daddy,” she begged. “Cunjee’s +too embarrassing for me!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"></a> +CHAPTER XIV.<br/> +CAMPING OUT</h2> + +<p> +“About that fishing excursion, Norah?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Daddy.” A small brown paw slid itself into Mr. Linton’s +hand. +</p> + +<p> +They were sitting on the verandah in the stillness of an autumn evening, +watching the shadows on the lawn become vague and indistinct, and finally merge +into one haze of dusk. Mr. Linton had been silent for a long time. Norah always +knew when her father wanted to talk. This evening she was content to be silent, +too, leaning against his knee in her own friendly fashion as she curled up at +his feet. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you hadn’t forgotten, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well—not much! Only I didn’t know if you really wanted to +go, Daddy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, yes,” said her father. “I think it would be rather a +good idea, my girlie. There’s not much doing on the place just now. I +could easily be spared. And we don’t want to leave our trip until the +days grow shorter. The moon will be right, too. It will be full in four or five +days—I forget the exact date. So, altogether, Norah, I think we’d +better consult Brownie about the commissariat department, and make our +arrangements to go immediately.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’ll be simply lovely,” said his daughter, breathing a long +sigh of delight. “Such a long time since we had a camping out—just +you and me, Daddy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it’s a good while. Well, we’ve got to make up for lost +time by catching plenty of fish,” said Mr. Linton. “I hope you +haven’t forgotten the whereabouts of that fine new hole of yours? +You’ll have to take me to it if Anglers’ Bend doesn’t come up +to expectations.” +</p> + +<p> +A deep flush came into Norah’s face. For a little while she had almost +forgotten the Hermit—or, rather, he had ceased to occupy a prominent +position in her mind, since the talk of the Winfield murder had begun to die +away. The troopers, unsuccessful in their quest, had gone back to headquarters, +and Norah had breathed more freely, knowing that her friend had +escaped—this time. Still, she never felt comfortable in her mind about +him. Never before had she kept any secret from her father, and the fact of this +concealment was apt to come home closely to her at times and cloud the perfect +friendship between them. +</p> + +<p> +“Master Billy will be delighted, I expect,” went on Mr. Linton, not +noticing the little girl’s silence. “Anything out of the ordinary +groove of civilisation is a joy to that primitive young man. I don’t +fancy it would take much to make a cheerful savage of Billy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can’t you fancy him!” said Norah, making an effort to break +away from her own thoughts; “roaming the bush with a boomerang and a +waddy, and dressed in strips of white paint.” +</p> + +<p> +“Striped indeed!” said her father, laughing. “I’ve no +doubt he’d enjoy it. I hope his ancient instincts won’t +revive—he’s the best hand with horses we ever had on the station. +Now, Norah, come and talk to Brownie.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Brown, on being consulted, saw no difficulties in the way. A day, she +declared, was all she wanted to prepare sufficient food for the party for a +week—let alone for only three days. +</p> + +<p> +“Not as I’ll stint you to three days,” remarked the prudent +Brownie. “Last time it was to be three days—an’ ’twas +more like six when we saw you again. Once you two gets away—” and +she wagged a stern forefinger at her employer. “And there’s that +black himp—he eats enough for five!” +</p> + +<p> +“You forget the fish we’re going to live on,” laughed Mr. +Linton. +</p> + +<p> +“‘M,” said Brownie solemnly. “First catch your +fish!” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, of course, we mean to, you horrid old thing!” cried Norah, +laughing; “and bring you home loads, too—not that you deserve it +for doubting us!” +</p> + +<p> +“I have seen many fishing parties go out, Miss Norah, my dear,” +said Mrs. Brown impassively, “and on the ’ole more came ’ome +hempty ’anded than bringing loads—fish bein’ curious things, +an’ very unreliable on the bite. Still, we’ll ’ope for the +best—an’ meanwhile to prepare for the worst. I’ll just cook a +few extry little things—another tongue, now, an’ a nice piece of +corned beef, an’ per’aps a ’am. An’ do you think you +could manage a pie or two, Miss Norah?” +</p> + +<p> +“Try her!” said Mr. Linton, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s tell Billy!”—and off went Norah at a gallop. +</p> + +<p> +She returned a few minutes later, slightly crestfallen. +</p> + +<p> +“Billy must be asleep,” she said. “I couldn’t get an +answer. Lazy young nigger—and it’s still twilight!” +</p> + +<p> +“Billy has no use for the day after the sun goes down, unless he’s +going ’possuming,” her father said. “Never mind—the +news will keep until the morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I know,” said Norah, smiling. “But I wanted to tell him +to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +“I sympathise with you,” said her father, “and, meanwhile, to +console yourself, suppose you bend your mighty mind to the problem of getting +away. Do you see any objection to our leaving for parts unknown the day after +to-morrow?” +</p> + +<p> +“Depends on Brownie and the tucker,” said Norah practically. +</p> + +<p> +“That part’s all right; Brownie guarantees to have everything ready +to-morrow night if you help her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, of course I will, Daddy.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you have to get your own preparations made.” +</p> + +<p> +“That won’t take long,” said Norah, with a grin. +“Brush, comb, tooth-brush, pyjamas; that’s all, Dad!” +</p> + +<p> +“Such minor things as soap and towels don’t appear to enter into +your calculations,” said her father. “Well I can bear it!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you silly old Dad! Of course I know about those. Only Brownie always +packs the ordinary, uninteresting things.” +</p> + +<p> +“I foresee a busy day for you and Brownie tomorrow,” Mr. Linton +said. “I’ll have a laborious time myself, fixing up fishing +tackle—if Jim and his merry men left me with any. As for Billy, he will +spend the day grubbing for bait. Wherefore, everything being settled, come and +play me ‘The Last Rose of Summer,’ and then say good-night.” +</p> + +<p> +Norah was up early, and the day passed swiftly in a whirl of preparations. +Everything was ready by evening, including a hamper of monumental proportions, +the consumption of which, Mr. Linton said, would certainly render the party +unfit for active exertion in the way of fishing. Billy’s delight had made +itself manifest in the broad grin which he wore all day while he dug for worms, +and chased crickets and grass-hoppers. The horses were brought in and stabled +overnight, so that an early start might be made. +</p> + +<p> +It was quite an exciting day, and Norah was positive that she could not go to +sleep when her father sent her off to bed at an unusually early hour, meeting +her remonstrances with the reminder that she had to be up with, or before, the +lark. However, she was really tired, and was soon asleep. It seemed to her that +she had only been in this blissful condition for three minutes when a hand was +laid on her shoulder and she started up to find daylight had come. Mr. Linton +stood laughing at her sleepy face. +</p> + +<p> +“D’you mean to say it’s morning?” said Norah. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve been led to believe so,” her father rejoined. +“Shall I pull you out, or would you prefer to rise without +assistance?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d much prefer to go to sleep again—but I’ll tumble +out, thank you,” said his daughter, suiting the action to the word. +“Had your bath, Daddy?’ +</p> + +<p> +“Just going to it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I’ll race you!” said Norah, snatching a towel and +disappearing down the hall, a slender, flying figure in blue pyjamas. Mr. +Linton gave chase, but Norah’s start was too good, and the click of the +lock greeted him as he arrived at the door of the bathroom. The noise of the +shower drowned his laughing threats, while a small voice sang, amid splashes, +“You should have been here last week!” +</p> + +<p> +Breakfast was a merry meal, although, as Norah said, it was unreasonable to +expect anybody to have an appetite at that hour. Still, with a view to the +future, and to avoid wounding Mrs. Brown too deeply, they made as firm an +attempt as possible, with surprisingly good results. Then brief good-byes were +said, the pack scientifically adjusted to the saddle on the old mare, and they +rode off in the cool, dewy morning. +</p> + +<p> +This time there was no “racing and chasing o’er Cannobie Lea” +on the way to Anglers’ Bend. Mr. Linton’s days of scurrying were +over, he said, unless a bullock happened to have a difference of opinion as to +the way he should go, and, as racing by one’s self is a poor thing Norah +was content to ride along steadily by her father’s side, with only an +occasional canter, when Bobs pulled and reefed as if he were as anxious to +gallop as his young mistress could possibly be. It was time for lunch when they +at length arrived at the well-remembered bend on the creek. +</p> + +<p> +The horses were unsaddled and hobbled, and then turned out to wander at their +own sweet will—the shortness of the hobbles a guarantee that they would +not stray very far; and the three wanderers sat on the bank of the creek, very +ready for the luncheon Mrs. Brown had carefully prepared and placed near the +top of the pack. This despatched, preparations were made for pitching camp. +</p> + +<p> +Here luck favoured them, for a visit to their former camping place showed that +tent poles and pegs were still there, and uninjured—which considerably +lessened the labour of pitching the tents. In a very short time the two tents +were standing, and a couple of stretchers rigged up with bags—Mr. Linton +had no opinion of the comfort of sleeping on beds of leaves. While her father +and Billy were at this work, Norah unpacked the cooking utensils and +provisions. Most of the latter were encased in calico bags, which could be hung +in the shade, secure from either ants or flies, the remainder, packed in tins, +being stowed away easily in the corner of one of the tents. +</p> + +<p> +When the stretchers were ready Norah unpacked the bedding and made their beds. +Finally she hung the tooth-brushes to the ridge poles and said contentedly, +“Daddy, it’s just like home!” +</p> + +<p> +“Glad you think so!” said Mr. Linton, casting an approving eye over +the comfortable-looking camp, and really there is something wonderfully +homelike about a well-pitched camp with a few arrangements for comfort. +“At any rate, I think we’ll manage very well for a few days, Norah. +Now, while Billy lays in a stock of firewood and fixes up a ‘humpy’ +for himself to sleep in, suppose you and I go down and try to catch some fish +for tea?” +</p> + +<p> +“Plenty!” laughed Norah. +</p> + +<p> +It soon became evident that Anglers’ Bend was going to maintain its name +as a place for fish. Scarcely was Norah’s line in the water before a big +blackfish was on the hook, and after that the fun was fast and furious, until +they had caught enough for two or three meals. The day was ideal for +fishing—grey and warm, with just enough breeze to ripple the water +faintly. Mr. Linton and Norah found it very peaceful, sitting together on the +old log that jutted across the stream, and the time passed quickly. Billy at +length appeared, and was given the fish to prepare, and then father and +daughter returned to camp. Mr. Linton lit the fire, and cutting two stout +forked stakes, which he drove into the ground, one on each side of the fire, he +hung a green ti-tree pole across, in readiness to hold the billy and +frying-pan. Billy presently came up with the fish, and soon a cheery sound of +sizzling smote the evening air. By the time that Norah had “the table +set,” as she phrased it, the fish were ready, and in Norah’s +opinion no meal ever tasted half so good. +</p> + +<p> +After it was over, Billy the indispensable removed the plates and washed up, +and Norah and her father sat by the fire and “yarned” in the cool +dusk. Not for long, for soon the little girl began to feel sleepy after the +full day in the open air, and the prospect of the comfortable stretcher in her +tent was very tempting. She brushed her hair outside in the moonlight, because +a small tent is not the place in which to wield a hairbrush; then she slipped +into bed, and her father came and tucked her up before tying the flap securely +enough to keep out possible intruders in the shape of “bears” and +’possums. Norah lay watching the flickering firelight for a little while, +thinking there was nothing so glorious as the open-air feeling, and the night +scents of the bush; then she fell asleep. +</p> + +<p> +“Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Ho-ho-ho-ho-ho!!” +</p> + +<p> +A cheeky jackass on a gum tree bough fairly roared with laughter, and Norah +woke up with a violent start. The sunlight was streaming across her bed. For a +moment she was puzzled, wondering where she was; then the walls of the tent +caught her eye, and she laughed at herself, and then lay still in the very +pleasure of the dewy morning and the wonderful freshness of the air. For there +is a delight in awaking after a night in the open that the finest house in the +world cannot give. +</p> + +<p> +Presently the flap of the tent was parted and Mr. Linton peeped in. +</p> + +<p> +“Hallo!” he said, smiling, “did the old jackass wake you? I +found him as good as an alarum clock myself. How about a swim?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh—rather!” said Norah, tumbling out of bed. She slipped on +a jacket and shoes, and presently joined her father, and they threaded their +way through the scrub until they came to a part of the creek where a beach, +flat and sandy, and shelving down to a fairly deep hole, offered glorious +bathing. Mr. Linton left Norah here, and himself went a few yards farther up, +round a bend in the creek. +</p> + +<p> +At the first plunge the water was distinctly cold, but once the first dip was +taken Norah forgot all about chilliness, and only revelled in the delights of +that big pool. She could swim like a fish—her father had seen to that in +the big lagoon at home. Not until Mr. Linton’s warning voice sang out +that it was time to dress did she leave the water, and then with reluctance. +</p> + +<p> +A brisk rub down with a hard towel and she rejoined her father. He cast an +approving look at her glowing face. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you look as if you’d enjoyed your swim,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh it was lovely, Daddy! Did you have a good bathe?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes—I struck a very good place—deep enough to dive +in,” her father answered. “Not that I counsel diving +altogether—you strike such a lot of mud at the bottom—soft, sticky, +black mud! I spent most of my bathe in getting myself clean after my dive! +Still, I had a good swim, notwithstanding. I say, Norah, I’m ready for +breakfast.” +</p> + +<p> +“So am I,” said his daughter. “I hope Billy’s got the +fish on!” +</p> + +<p> +However, there was no sign of the black retainer when they reached the camp. +The fire was blazing and the billy boiling, but of the other Billy no trace +existed. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s gone after the horses,” Mr. Linton said. “I told +him to see to them—but he ought to be back. I hope they’re all +right. Well, you get dressed, Norah.” +</p> + +<p> +By the time Norah’s toilet was completed the fish, under Mr. +Linton’s supervision, were in the pan, and she hurried to set out the +breakfast things. They were just beginning breakfast when the sound of hoofs +was heard and Billy rode into the clearing on his own pony, with evident signs +of perturbation on his ebony face. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s up, Billy?” Mr. Linton asked sharply. +</p> + +<p> +“That feller pack-mare,” Billy said briefly. “Broken +hobbles—clear out. Plenty!” He produced a hobble as he spoke, the +broken leather telling its own tale. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Linton uttered an exclamation of anger. +</p> + +<p> +“That comes of not seeing to the hobbles myself,” he said sharply. +“No sign of her?” +</p> + +<p> +Billy shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Not likely,” Mr. Linton said; “that old mare would make for +home like a shot. I dare say she’s half-way there by now. Well, Billy, +there’s only one thing to do—get your pony saddled and go after +her.” +</p> + +<p> +Billy’s face expressed unuttered depths of woe. +</p> + +<p> +“Get your breakfast first,” said his master; “there’s +no particular hurry, for you’re bound to have to go all the way +home—and bring some good hobbles back with you, if you do!” +</p> + +<p> +Billy slid to the ground. +</p> + +<p> +“Plenty!” he said ruefully. +</p> + +<p> +Billy, a black vision of despondency, had faded away into the distance, making +his chestnut pony pay for the disappointment of his long ride back to the +homestead for the missing mare. Norah and her father had “cleaned up +house,” as Norah put it, and again they were sitting on the old log that +spanned the creek. +</p> + +<p> +Their lines were in water, but the fish were shy. The promise of a hot day had +driven them to the shady hollows under the banks. The juiciest worms failed to +lure them from their hiding-places. Norah thought it dull and said so. +</p> + +<p> +Her father laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll never make a fisherman without cultivating an extra stock +of patience,” he said. “The thought of last night’s luck +ought to make you happy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it doesn’t,” his daughter answered decidedly. +“That was yesterday, and this is to-day; and it is dull, Daddy, +anyhow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, keep on hoping,” said Mr. Linton; “luck may change at +any minute. Norah, do you know, I have something to tell you?” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” Norah’s dullness was gone. There was something +unusual in her father’s tone. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid you won’t think it the best news,” he said, +smiling at her eager face. “But it had to come some day, I suppose. I +couldn’t keep you a baby always. There’s a tutor coming to make a +learned lady of my little bush maid.” +</p> + +<p> +“Daddy!” There were worlds of horror in the tone. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, don’t!” said her father. “You make me feel a +criminal of the deepest dye. What can I do with you, you ignorant small child? +I can’t let you grow up altogether a bush duffer, dear.” His voice +was almost apologetic. “I can assure you it might have been worse. Your +Aunt Eva has been harrowing my very soul to make me send you to a boarding +school. Think of that now!” +</p> + +<p> +“Boarding school!” said Norah faintly. “Daddy, you +wouldn’t?” +</p> + +<p> +“No—not at present, certainly,” said her father. “But I +had to agree to something—and, really, I knew it was time. You’re +twelve, you know, Norah. Be reasonable.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, all right,” said Norah, swallowing her disgust. “If you +say it’s got to be, it has to be, that’s all, Daddy. My goodness, +how I will hate it! Have I got to learn heaps of things?” +</p> + +<p> +“Loads,” said her father, nodding; “Latin, and French, and +drawing, and geography, and how to talk grammar, and any number of things I +never knew. Then you can teach the tutor things—riding, and cooking, and +knitting, and the care of tame wallabies, and any number of things he never +dreamed of. He’s a town young man, Norah, and horribly ignorant of all +useful arts.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll turn him over to Billy after school,” said Norah +laughing. “Is he nice, Dad?” +</p> + +<p> +“Very, I should say,” rejoined her father. “He’s the +son of an old friend”—and his face saddened imperceptibly. +“Your Aunt Eva said it ought to be a governess, and perhaps it would have +been one only young Stephenson came in my way. He wanted something to do, and +for his father’s sake I chose him for my daughter’s +instructor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who’s his father, Daddy?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you wouldn’t know if I told you, girlie. A dear old friend +of mine when I was a young man—the best friend I ever had. Jim is named +after him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is he dead now?” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Linton hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“We lost him years ago,” he said sadly. “A great trouble came +upon him—he lost some money, and was falsely accused of dishonesty, and +he had to go to prison. When he came out his wife refused to see him; they had +made her believe him a thief, and she was a hard woman, although she loved him. +She sent him a message that he must never try to see her or their boy.” +</p> + +<p> +“She was cruel.” Norah’s eyes were angry. +</p> + +<p> +“She was very unhappy, so we mustn’t judge her,” her father +said, sighing. “Poor soul, she paid for her harshness. Later the truth of +the whole bad business came out, and she would have given the world to be able +to beg his forgiveness-only it was too late.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was he dead, Daddy?” +</p> + +<p> +“They found his body in the river,” said Mr. Linton. “Poor +old chap, he couldn’t stand the loss of his whole world. I’ve +wished ever since that I could tell him I never believed the lie for a moment. +I was in England at the time, and I knew nothing about it until he was +dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“Poor old Daddy,” said Norah softly. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it’s an old story, now,” Mr. Linton said. “Only I +never lose the regret—and wish that I could have done something to help +my old friend. I don’t quite know why I’ve told you about it, +except that I want you to be kind to young Dick Stephenson, because his life +has been a sad enough one.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is his mother alive?” +</p> + +<p> +“She lives in Melbourne,” said her father. “I think she only +lives for this boy, and the time when she can go to her husband and beg his +forgiveness. He’ll give it, too—poor old Jim. He could never bear +malice in his life, and I’m certain death couldn’t change his +nature. The lad seems a good chap; he’s had a first-rate education. But +his mother never gave him any profession; I don’t know why. Women +aren’t made for business. So he wants to teach.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll be good to him, Daddy.” Norah slipped her hand into her +father’s. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s my little girl. I knew I could depend on you,” said +Mr. Linton. A far-away look came into his eyes, and he pulled hard at his pipe. +Norah guessed he was thinking of days of long ago. +</p> + +<p> +She pulled her bait up, and examination told her it was untouched. The fish +were certainly shy, and another half-hour’s tempting did not bring them +to the hook. It was exceedingly dull. Norah wound up her line slowly. She also +had been thinking. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going for a walk, Daddy,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“All right, dear; don’t go far,” said her father absently. +</p> + +<p> +Norah walked soberly along the log until she reached the creek bank, and then +jumped ashore. She looked round at her father, but he was absorbed in his +fishing and his thoughts, and so the little girl slipped away into the bush. +She made her way among the trees quickly, keeping to the line of the creek. +Presently she sat down on a moss-grown stump and thought deeply. +</p> + +<p> +The Hermit had been pretty constantly in Norah’s mind since the troopers +had been scouring the district in their search for the Winfield murderer. She +had longed intensely to warn him—scenting certain unpleasantness to him, +and possible danger, although she was loyally firm in the belief that he could +not be the man for whom they were searching. Still, how like the description +was! Even though Norah’s faith was unshaken, she knew that the veriest +hint of the Hermit’s existence would bring the troopers down on him as +fast as they could travel to his camp. She put aside resolutely the thoughts +that flocked to her mind—the strange old man’s lonely life, his +desire to hide himself from his fellow-men. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t understand it a bit,” she said aloud. “But +I’ll have to tell him. He ought to know.” +</p> + +<p> +With that she sprang up and ran on through the scrub. It was thick enough to +puzzle many a traveller, but the little maid of the bush saw no difficulties in +the way. It was quite clear to her, remembering how the Hermit had guided their +merry party on the first visit, weeks ago. At the exact spot on the creek she +struck off at right angles into the heart of the trees, keeping a sharp lookout +for the tall old form that might appear at any moment—hoping that her +father might not grow tired of fishing and coo-ee for her to return. +</p> + +<p> +But there was silence in the bush, and no sign of the Hermit could be seen. The +thought came to Norah that he might have struck camp, and gone farther back +into the wild country, away from the men he dreaded. But she put the idea from +her. Somehow she felt that he was there. +</p> + +<p> +She came to the clump of dogwood that hid the old log along which lay the last +part of the track to the Hermit’s camp and, climbing up, ran along it +lightly. There were no recent footprints upon it. Suddenly the silence of the +surroundings fell heavily on her heart. +</p> + +<p> +Reaching the end of the log that gave access to the clearing, she took a hasty +glance round. The ashes of the fire were long dead. No one was there. +</p> + +<p> +Norah’s heart thumped heavily. For a moment she fought with the longing +to run back—back from this strange, silent place—back to Daddy. +Then she gulped down something in her throat, and giving herself an impatient +shake, she went resolutely across the clearing to the tent and peeped in. +</p> + +<p> +The interior of the tent was as neat and homelike as when Norah had seen it +first. The quaint bits of furniture stood in their places, and the skins lay on +the floor. But Norah saw nothing but her friend’s face. +</p> + +<p> +The Hermit was lying on his bunk—a splendid old figure in his dress of +soft furry skins, but with a certain helplessness about him that brought +Norah’s heart into her mouth. As the flap of the tent lifted he turned +his head with difficulty, and looked at the little girl with weary, burning +eyes that held no light of recognition. His face was ghastly white beneath the +sunburnt skin, which was drawn like parchment over the cheekbones. A low moan +came from his dry lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Water!” +</p> + +<p> +Norah cast a despairing glance around. An empty billy by the old man told its +own tale, and a hurried search in the camp only revealed empty vessels. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll be back in a minute,” said Norah, sobbing. +</p> + +<p> +Afterwards she could not remember how she had got down to the creek. Her blouse +was torn, and there were long scratches on her wrists, and she was panting, as +she came back to the sick man, and, struggling to raise his heavy head, held a +cup to his lips. He drank fiercely, desperately, as Norah had seen starving +cattle drink when released after a long journey in the trucks. Again and again +he drank—until Norah grew afraid and begged him to lie down. He obeyed +her meekly and smiled a little, but there was no comprehension in the fevered +eyes. She put her hand on his forehead and started at its burning heat. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, what’ll I do with you!” she said in her perplexity. +</p> + +<p> +“Do?” said the Hermit with startling suddenness. “But +I’m dead!” He closed his eyes and lay very still. +“Dead—ages ago!” He muttered. A second he lay so, and then he +turned and looked at her. “Where’s the child?” he asked. +“I must go to him; let me go, I tell you!” He tried to rise, but +fell back weakly. “Water!” he begged. +</p> + +<p> +She gave him water again, and then bathed his face and hands, using her +handkerchief for a sponge. He grew quieter, and once or twice Norah thought he +seemed to know her; but at the end he closed his eyes and lay motionless. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll be back very soon,” she said. “Do please be +still, dear Mr. Hermit!” She bent over him and kissed his forehead, and +he stirred and murmured a name she could not catch. Then he relapsed into +unconsciousness, and Norah turned and ran wildly into the scrub. +</p> + +<p> +To bring Daddy—Daddy, who knew everything, who always understood! There +was no other thought in her mind now. Whatever the Hermit might have done, he +needed help now most sorely—and Daddy was the only one who could give it. +Only the way seemed long as she raced through the trees, seeing always that +haggard, pain-wrung face on the rude bunk. If only they were in time! +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Linton, sitting on the log and lazily watching his idle float, started at +the voice that called to him from the bank; and at sight of the little girl be +leaped to his feet and ran towards her. +</p> + +<p> +“Norah! What is it?” +</p> + +<p> +She told him, clinging to him and sobbing; tugging at him all the time to make +him come quickly. A strange enough tale it seemed to Mr. Linton—of +hermits and hidden camps, and the Winfield murderer, and someone who needed +help,—but there was that in Norah’s face and in her unfamiliar +emotion that made him hurry through the scrub beside her, although he did not +understand what he was to find, and was only conscious of immense relief to +know that she herself was safe, after the moment of terror that her first cry +had given him. Norah steadied herself with a great effort, as they came to the +silent camp. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s there,” she said, pointing. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Linton understood something then, and he went forward quickly. The Hermit +was still unconscious. His hollow eyes met them blankly as they entered the +tent. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, he’s ill, Daddy! Will he die?” +</p> + +<p> +But David Linton did not answer. He was staring at the unconscious face before +him, and his own was strangely white. As Norah looked at him, struck with a +sudden wonder, her father fell on his knees and caught the sick man’s +hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Jim!” he said, and a sob choked his voice. “Old +chum—Jim!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"></a> +CHAPTER XV.<br/> +FOR FRIENDSHIP</h2> + +<p> +“Daddy!” +</p> + +<p> +At the quivering voice her father lifted his head and Norah saw that his eyes +were wet. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s my dear old friend Stephenson,” he said brokenly. +“I told you about him. We thought he was dead—there was the body; I +don’t understand, but this is he, and he’s alive, thank God!” +</p> + +<p> +The Hermit stirred and begged again for water, and Mr. Linton held him while he +drank. His face grew anxious as he felt the scorching heat of the old +man’s body. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s so thirsty,” Norah said tremulously, “goodness +knows when he’d had a drink. His poor lips were all black and cracked +when I found him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Had he no water near him?” asked her father, quickly. “You +got this?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, from the creek,” Norah nodded. “I’ll get some +more, Daddy; the billy’s nearly empty.” +</p> + +<p> +When Norah returned, laden with two cans, her father met her with a very grave +face. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s my girl,” he said, taking the water from her. +“Norah, I’m afraid he’s very ill. It looks uncommonly like +typhoid.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will he—will he die, Daddy?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t tell, dear. What’s bothering me is how to get help +for him. He wants a doctor immediately—wants a dozen things I +haven’t got here. I wish that blessed black boy hadn’t gone! I +don’t quite know what to do—I can’t leave you here while I +get help—he’s half delirious now.” +</p> + +<p> +“You must let me go,” said Norah quietly. “I +can—easily.” +</p> + +<p> +“You!” said her father, looking down at the steady face. +“That won’t do, dear—not across fifteen miles of lonely +country. I—” The Hermit cried out suddenly, and tried to rise, and +Mr. Linton had to hold him down gently, but the struggle was a painful one, and +when it was over the strong man’s brow was wet. “Poor old +chap!” he muttered brokenly. +</p> + +<p> +Norah caught his arm. +</p> + +<p> +“You see, I must go, Daddy,” she said. “There’s no one +else—and he’ll die! Truly I can, Daddy—quite well. +Bobs’ll look after me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can you?” he said, looking down at her. “You’re sure +you know the track?” +</p> + +<p> +“Course I can,” said his daughter scornfully. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t see anything for it,” Mr. Linton said, an anxious +frown knitting his brow. “His life hangs on getting help, and +there’s no other way, I’ll have to risk you, my little girl.” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s no risk,” said Norah. “Don’t you worry, +Daddy, dear. Just tell me what you want.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Linton was writing hurriedly in his pocket-book. +</p> + +<p> +“Send into Cunjee for Dr. Anderson as hard as a man can travel,” he +said shortly. “Don’t wait for him, however; get Mrs. Brown to pack +these things from my medicine-chest, and let Billy get a fresh horse and bring +them back to me, and he needn’t be afraid of knocking his horse up. +I’m afraid we’re too late as it is. Can he find his way +here?” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s been here.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s all right, then. Tell Anderson I think it’s typhoid, +and if he thinks we can move him, let Wright follow the doctor out with the +express-wagon—Mrs. Brown will know what to send to make it comfortable. +Can you manage Bobs?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes—of course.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Linton put his hand on her shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve got to let you go,” he said. “It’s the only +way. Remember, I won’t have a minute’s peace until I know +you’ve got safely home.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll be all right, Daddy—true. And I’ll hurry. +Don’t bother about me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bother!” he said. “My little wee mate.” He kissed her +twice. “Now—hurry!” +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +Bobs, grazing peacefully under a big gum tree, was startled by a little figure, +staggering beneath saddle and bridle. In a minute Norah was on his back, and +they were galloping across the plain towards home. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +A young man sat on the cap of the stockyard fence at Billabong homestead, +swinging his legs listlessly and wishing for something to do. He blessed the +impulse that had brought him to the station before his time, and wondered if +things were likely to be always as dull. +</p> + +<p> +“Unless my small pupil stirs things up, I don’t fancy this life +much,” he said moodily, in which he showed considerable impatience of +judgment, being but a young man. +</p> + +<p> +Across the long, grey plain a tiny cloud gathered, and the man watched it +lazily. Gradually it grew larger, until it resolved itself into dust—and +the dust into a horse and rider. +</p> + +<p> +“Someone coming,” he said, with faint interest. “By Jove, +it’s a girl! She’s racing, too. Wonder if anything’s +wrong?” +</p> + +<p> +He slipped from the fence and went forward to open the gate, looking at the +advancing pair. A big bay pony panting and dripping with sweat, but with +“go” in him yet for a final sprint; and on his back a little girl, +flushed and excited, with tired, set lips. He expected her to stop at the gate, +but she flashed by him with a glance and a brief “Thank you,” +galloping up to the gate of the yard. Almost before the pony stopped she was +out of the saddle and running up the path to the kitchen. The man saw Mrs. +Brown come out, and heard her cry of surprise as she caught the child to her. +</p> + +<p> +“Something’s up,” said the stranger. He followed at a run. +</p> + +<p> +In the kitchen Norah was clinging to Mrs. Brown, quivering with the effort not +to cry. +</p> + +<p> +“Someone ill in the bush?” said the astonished Brownie, patting her +nurseling. “Yes, Billy’s here, dearie—and all the horses are +in. Where’s the note? I’ll see to it. Poor pet! Don’t take +on, lovey, there. See, here’s your new governess, Mr. Stephenson!” +</p> + +<p> +Norah straightened with a gasp of astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“You!” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Me!” said Dick Stephenson ungrammatically, holding out his hand. +“You’re my pupil, aren’t you? Is anything wrong?” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a poor gentleman near to dyin’ in the scrub,” +volunteered Mrs. Brown, “an’ Miss Norah’s come all the way in +for help. Fifteen mile, if it’s a inch! I don’t know ow’ you +did it, my blessed pet!” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t mean to say you did!” said the new +“governess” amazed. Small girls like this had not come his way. +“By Jove, you’re plucky! I say, what’s up?” +</p> + +<p> +Norah was very pale. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you really Mr. Stephenson?” she asked. “I... +You’ll be surprised.... He’s...” Her voice failed her. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t worry to talk,” he said gently. “You’re +done up.” +</p> + +<p> +“No—” She steadied her voice. “I must tell you. +It’s—it’s—your father!” +</p> + +<p> +Dick Stephenson’s face suddenly darkened. +</p> + +<p> +“I beg your pardon,” he said stiffly. “You’re making a +mistake; my father is dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s not,” said Norah, “He’s my dear Hermit, and +he’s out there with typhoid, or some beastly thing. We found +him—and Dad knows him quite well. It’s really him. He never got +drowned.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know what you’re saying?” The man’s face was +white. +</p> + +<p> +But Norah’s self-command was at an end. She buried her face in +Brownie’s kind bosom, and burst into a passion of crying. +</p> + +<p> +The old woman rocked her to and fro gently until the sobs grew fainter, and +Norah, shame-faced, began to feel for her handkerchief. Then Mrs. Brown put her +into the big cushioned rocking-chair. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, you must be brave and tell us, dearie,” she said gently. +“This is pretty wonderful for Mr. Stephenson.” +</p> + +<p> +So Norah, with many catchings of the breath, told them all about the Hermit, +and of her father’s recognition of him, saying only nothing of her long +and lonely ride. Before she had finished Billy was on the road to Cunjee, +flying for the doctor. Dick Stephenson, white-faced, broke in on the story. +</p> + +<p> +“How can I get out there?” he asked shortly. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll take you,” Norah said. +</p> + +<p> +“You!—that’s out of the question.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, it isn’t. I’m not tired,” said Norah, quite +unconscious of saying anything but the truth. “I knew I’d have to, +anyhow, because only Billy and I know the way to the Hermit’s camp, and +he has to fetch the doctor. You tell Wright to get Banker for you, and put my +saddle on Jim’s pony—and to look well after Bobs. Hurry, while +Brownie gets the other things!” +</p> + +<p> +Dick Stephenson made no further protests, his brain awhirl as he raced to the +stables. Brownie protested certainly, but did her small maid’s bidding +the while. But it was a very troubled old face that looked long after the man +and the little girl, as they started on the long ride back to the camp. +</p> + +<p> +Mile after mile they swung across the grey plain. +</p> + +<p> +Norah did not try to talk. She disdained the idea that she was tired, but a +vague feeling told her that she must save all her energies to guide the way +back to the camp hidden in the scrub, where the Hermit lay raving, and her +father sat beside the lonely bed. +</p> + +<p> +Neither was her companion talkative. He stared ahead, as if trying to pierce +with his eyes the line of timber that blurred across the landscape. Norah was +glad he did not bother her with questions. She had told him all she knew, and +now he was content to wait. +</p> + +<p> +“It must be hard on him, all the same,” thought Norah, looking at +the set young face, and sparing an instant to approve of the easy seat in the +saddle displayed by her new “governess.” To believe that your +father was dead all these years, and then suddenly to find him alive—but +how far apart in every way! “Why, you hardly know,” mused Norah, +“whether you’ll like him—whether he’ll be glad to see +you! Not that anyone could fail to like the Hermit—anyone with sense, +that is!” +</p> + +<p> +Mile after mile! The plain slipped away beneath the even beat of the steadily +cantering hoofs. The creek, forded slowly, sank into the distance behind them; +before, the line of timber grew darker and more definite. Jim’s pony was +not far inferior to Bobs in pace and easiness, and his swinging canter required +no effort to sit, but a great weariness began to steal over his rider. Dick +Stephenson, glancing at her frequently, saw the pallor creeping upon the brave +little face. +</p> + +<p> +He pulled up. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll go steady for a while,” he said. “No good +knocking you up altogether.” +</p> + +<p> +Norah checked her pony unwillingly. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, don’t you think we ought to hurry?” she said. +“Dad’s waiting for those medicines you’ve got, you +know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I know. But I don’t think we’ll gain much by overdoing +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you’re thinking about me,” Norah said impatiently, +“you needn’t. I’m as right as rain. You must think I’m +pretty soft! Do come on!” +</p> + +<p> +He looked at her steadily. Dark shadows of weariness lay under the brave eyes +that met his. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, no,” he said. “Fact is, I’m a bit of a new chum +myself where riding’s concerned—you mustn’t be too ashamed of +me. I think we’d better walk for a while. And you take this.” +</p> + +<p> +He poured something from his flask into its little silver cup and handed it to +Norah. Their eyes met, and she read his meaning through the kindness of the +words that cloaked what he felt. Above her weariness a sense of comfort stole +over Norah. She knew in that look that henceforth they were friends. +</p> + +<p> +She gulped down the drink, which was hateful, but presently sent a feeling of +renewed strength through her tired limbs. They rode on in silence for some +time, the horses brushing through the long soft grass. Dick Stephenson pulled +hard at his pipe. +</p> + +<p> +“Did—did my father know you this morning?” he asked suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +Norah shook her head mournfully. +</p> + +<p> +“He didn’t know anyone,” she answered, “only asked for +water and said things I couldn’t understand. Then when Dad came he knew +him at once, but the Hermit didn’t seem even to know that Dad was +there.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did he look very bad?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes—pretty bad,” said Norah, hating to hurt him. “He +was terribly flushed, and oh! his poor eyes were awful, so burning and sunken. +And—oh!—let’s canter, Mr. Stephenson, please!” +</p> + +<p> +This time there was no objection. Banker jumped at the quick touch of the spur +as Stephenson’s heel went home. Side by side they cantered steadily until +Norah pulled her pony in at length at the entrance to the timber, where the +creek swung into Anglers’ Bend. +</p> + +<p> +“We’re nearly there,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +But to the man watching in the Hermit’s camp the hours were long indeed. +</p> + +<p> +The Hermit was too weak to struggle much. There had been a few sharp paroxysms +of delirium, such as Norah had seen, during which David Linton had been forced +to hold the old man down with unwilling force. But the struggles soon brought +their own result of helpless weakness, and the Hermit subsided into restless +unconsciousness, broken by feeble mutterings, of which few coherent words could +be caught. “Dick” was frequently on the fevered lips. Once he +smiled suddenly, and Mr. Linton, bending down, heard a faint whisper of +“Norah.” +</p> + +<p> +Sitting beside his old friend in the lonely silence of the bush, he studied the +ravages time and sorrow had wrought in the features be knew. Greatly changed as +Jim Stephenson was, his face lined and sunken, and his beard long and white as +snow, it was still, to David Linton, the friend of his boyhood come back from +the grave and from his burden of unmerited disgrace. The frank blue eyes were +as brave as ever; they met his with no light of recognition, but with their +clear gaze undimmed. A sob rose in the strong man’s throat—if he +could but see again that welcoming light!—hear once more his name on his +friend’s lips! If he were not too late! +</p> + +<p> +The Hermit muttered and tossed on his narrow bed. The watcher’s thoughts +fled to the little messenger galloping over the long miles of lonely +country—his motherless girl, whom he had sent on a mission that might so +easily spell disaster. Horrible thoughts came into the father’s mind. He +pictured Bobs putting his hoof into a hidden +crab-hole—falling—Norah lying white and motionless, perhaps far +from the track. That was not the only danger. Bad characters were to be met +with in the bush and the pony was valuable enough to tempt a desperate +man—such as the Winfield murderer, who was roaming the district, nobody +knew where. There was a score of possible risks; to battle with them, a little +maid of twelve, strong only in the self-reliance bred of the bush. The father +looked at the ghastly face before him, and asked himself questions that +tortured—Was it right to have let the young life go to save the old one +that seemed just flickering out? He put his face in his hands and groaned. +</p> + +<p> +How long the hours were! He calculated feverishly the time it would take the +little messenger to reach home if all went well; then how long it must be +before a man could come out to him. At that thought he realised for the first +time the difficulty Norah had seen in silence—who should come out to him? +Black Billy must fetch the doctor and guide him to the sick man; but no one +else save Norah herself knew the track to the little camp, hidden so cunningly +in the scrub, at that rate it might be many hours before he knew if his child +were safe. Anxiety for the remedies for his friend was swallowed up in the +anguish of uncertainty for Norah. It seemed to him that he must go to seek +her—that he could not wait! He started up, but, as if alarmed by his +sudden movement, the Hermit cried out and tried to rise, struggling feebly with +the strong hands that were quick to hold him back. When the struggle was over +David Linton sat down again. How could he leave him? +</p> + +<p> +Then across his agony of uncertainty came a clear childish voice. The tent +flaps were parted and Norah stood in the entrance white and trembling, but with +a glad smile of welcome on her lips—behind her a tall man, who trembled, +too. David Linton did not see him. All the world seemed whirling round him as +he caught his child in his arms. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"></a> +CHAPTER XVI.<br/> +FIGHTING DEATH</h2> + +<p> +“You!” Mr. Linton said. +</p> + +<p> +He had put Norah gently into the rough chair, and turned to Dick Stephenson, +who was standing by his father, his lips twitching. They gripped hands +silently. +</p> + +<p> +“You can recognise him?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d know him anywhere,” the son said. “Poor old dad! +You think—?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” the other said hastily. “Can’t +tell until Anderson comes. But I fancy it’s typhoid. You brought the +things? Ah!” His eyes brightened as they fell on the leather +medicine-case Mrs. Brown had sent, and in a moment he was unstrapping it with +quick, nervous fingers.. +</p> + +<p> +The Hermit stirred, and gasped for water. He drank readily enough from the +glass Mr. Linton held to his lips, while his son supported him with strong +young arms. There was not much they could do. +</p> + +<p> +“Anderson should be here before long,” Mr. Linton said. “What +time did Billy leave?” +</p> + +<p> +“A little after twelve.” +</p> + +<p> +“What did he ride?” +</p> + +<p> +“A big black.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s right,” Mr. Linton nodded. “Anderson would +motor out to Billabong, I expect, and Mrs. Brown would have the fresh horses +ready. They should not be very long, with ordinary luck. Billy left about +twelve, did he? By Jove, Norah must have made great time! It was after +half-past ten when she left me.” +</p> + +<p> +“She and the pony looked as if they’d done enough.” +</p> + +<p> +“And she came back! I hadn’t realised it all in the minute of +seeing her,” her father said, staring at Stephenson. “Norah, dear, +are you quite knocked up?” He turned to speak, but broke off sharply. +Norah was gone. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Linton turned on his heel without a word, and hurried out of the tent, with +Stephenson at his side. Just for a moment the Hermit was forgotten in the +sudden pang of anxiety that gripped them both. In the open they glanced round +quickly, and a sharp exclamation of dismay broke from the father. +</p> + +<p> +Norah was lying in a crumpled heap under a tree. There was something terribly +helpless in the little, quiet figure, face downwards, on the grass. +</p> + +<p> +Just for a moment, as he fell on his knees beside her, David Linton lost his +self-control. He called her piteously, catching the limp body to him. Dick +Stephenson’s hand fell on his shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s only fainted,” he said huskily. “Over-tired, +that’s all. Put her down, sir, please”—and Mr. Linton, still +trembling, laid the little girl on the grass, and loosened her collar, while +the other forced a few drops from his flask between the pale lips. +</p> + +<p> +Gradually Norah’s eyes flickered and opened, and colour crept into her +cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +“Daddy!” she whispered. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t talk, my darling,” her father said. “Lie +still.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m all right now,” Norah said presently. “I’m +so sorry I frightened you, Daddy—I couldn’t help it.” +</p> + +<p> +“You should have kept still, dear,” said her father. “Why did +you go out?” +</p> + +<p> +“I felt rummy,” said his daughter inelegantly; “a queer, +whirly-go-round feeling. I guessed I must be going to tumble over. It +didn’t seem any good making a duffer of myself when you were busy with +the Hermit, so I cut out.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick Stephenson turned sharply and, without a word, strode back into the tent. +</p> + +<p> +Norah turned with a sudden movement to her father, clinging to the rough serge +of his coat. Something like a tear fell on her upturned face as the strong arms +enfolded her. +</p> + +<p> +“Why—Daddy—dear old Dad!” she whispered. +</p> + +<p> +It was nearly twilight when Dr. Anderson and black Billy rode into the +clearing, to the joy of the anxious watchers. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor did not waste any words. He slipped off his horse and entered the +tent. Presently Dick Stephenson came out and sat down beside Norah to await the +verdict. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t do any good there,” he said, “and +there’s no room.” +</p> + +<p> +Norah nodded. Just then there seemed nothing to say to this son whose father, +so lately given back from the grave, seemed to be slipping away again without a +word. She slid her hand into his and felt his fingers close warmly upon it. +</p> + +<p> +“I can stand it,” he said brokenly, after a little, “if he +can only know we—the world—knows he was never guilty—if I can +only tell him that. I can’t bear him to die not knowing that.” +</p> + +<p> +“He’d know it anyhow.” +</p> + +<p> +The little voice was very low, but the lad heard it. +</p> + +<p> +“I—I guess he will,” he said, “and that’s better. +But I would like to make it up to him a bit—while he’s here.” +</p> + +<p> +Then they were silent. The shadows deepened across the clearing. Long since the +sun had disappeared behind the rim of encircling trees. +</p> + +<p> +The tent flaps parted and the doctor and Mr. Linton came out. Dick rose and +faced them. He could not utter the question that trembled on his lips. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor nodded cheerily. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Norah?” he said. “Yes; I think we’ll pull the +patient through this time, Mr. Stephenson. It’ll be a fight, for +he’s old and weakened by exposure and lack of proper food, but I think +we’ll do it.” He talked on hopefully, appearing not to see the +question the son could not altogether hide. “Take him home? Yes, +we’ll get him home to-morrow, I think. We can’t nurse him out here. +The express-wagon’s following with all sorts of comforting things. Trust +your old Mrs. Brown for that, Norah. Most capable woman! Mattresses, air +pillows, nourishment—she’d thought of everything, and the wagon was +all ready to start when I got to Billabong. By the way, Billy was to go back to +show Wright the way. Where are you, Billy? Why haven’t you gone?” +</p> + +<p> +“Plenty!” said Billy hastily, as he disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +“Queer chap, that,” said Dr. Anderson, lighting a cigarette. +“That’s about the only remark he’s made all day, and in the +motor he didn’t say as much—sat like an ebony statue, with his eyes +bulging in unholy terror. I hear you’ve been flying all over the country, +Norah. What do you mean by looking so white?” +</p> + +<p> +The tale of Norah’s iniquities was unfolded to him, and the doctor felt +her pulse in a friendly way. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll have to go to bed soon,” he said. “Can’t +have you knocking yourself up, you know; and we’ve got to make an early +start to-morrow to avoid the worst heat of the day for the patient. Also, you +will take a small tabloid to make you ‘buck up,’ if you know what +that means, Norah!” Norah grinned. “Ah, well, Mr. Stephenson here +will make you forget all that undesirable knowledge before long—lost in a +maze of Euclid, and Latin, and Greek, and trigonometry, and things!” +</p> + +<p> +“I say!” gasped Norah. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you may,” grinned the doctor. “I foresee lively times +for you and your tutor in the paths of learning, young lady. First of all, +however, you’ll have to be under-nurse to our friend the patient, with +Mrs. Brown as head. And that reminds me—someone must sit up +to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s my privilege,” said Dick Stephenson quickly. And all +that night, after the camp had quieted to sleep, the son sat beside his +newly-found father, watching in the silver moonlight every change that flitted +across the wan old face. The Hermit had not yet recovered consciousness, but +under the doctor’s remedies he had lost the terrible restlessness of +delirium and lay for the most part calmly. In heart, as he watched him, Dick +was but a little boy again, loving above all the world the tall +“Daddy” who was his hero—longing with all the little +boy’s devotion and all the strength of his manhood to make up to him for +the years he had suffered alone. +</p> + +<p> +But the calm face on the bed never showed sign of recognition. Once or twice +the Hermit muttered, and his boy’s name was on his lips. The pulse +fluttered feebly. The great river flowed very close about his feet. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"></a> +CHAPTER XVII.<br/> +THE END OF THE STRUGGLE</h2> + +<p> +The long slow journey to Billabong homestead was accomplished. +</p> + +<p> +The Hermit had never regained consciousness throughout the weary hours during +which every jolt of the express-wagon over the rough tracks had sent a throb to +the hearts of the watchers. All unconscious he had lain while they lifted him +from the bunk where he had slept for so many lonely nights. The men packed his +few personal belongings quickly. Norah, remembering a hint dropped by the +Hermit in other days, had instituted a search for buried papers, which resulted +in the unearthing of a tin box containing various documents. She had insisted, +too, that the rough furniture should go, and it was piled in the front of the +wagon. Another man had brought out the old pack mare for the baggage of the +original fishing party, and the whole cavalcade moved off before the sun had +got above the horizon. +</p> + +<p> +But it was a tedious journey. Dr. Anderson sat beside his patient, watching the +feeble action of the heart and the flickering pulse, plying him with stimulants +and nourishment, occasionally calling a halt for a few minutes’ complete +rest. Close to the wheel Dick Stephenson rode, his eyes scarcely leaving his +father’s face. On the other side, Norah and her father rode in silent, +miserable anxiety, fretting at their utter helplessness. Dr. Anderson glanced +sharply now and then at the little girl’s face. +</p> + +<p> +“This isn’t good for her,” he said at length quietly to Mr. +Linton. “She’s had too much already. Take her home.” He +raised his voice. “You’d better go on,” he said; “let +Mrs. Brown know just what is coming; she’ll need you to help her prepare +the patient’s room, Norah. You, too, Stephenson.” +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t leave him, thanks,” he said. “I’d rather +not—he might become conscious.” +</p> + +<p> +“No chance of that,” the doctor said, “best not, too, until +we have him safely in bed. However, stay if you like—perhaps it’s +as well. I think, Linton, you’d better send a wire to Melbourne for a +trained nurse.” +</p> + +<p> +“And one to mother,” Dick said quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s gone already,” Mr. Linton said. “I sent George +back with it last night when he brought the mare out.” He smiled in +answer to Dick’s grateful look. “Well, come on, Norah.” +</p> + +<p> +The remembrance of that helpless form in the bottom of the wagon haunted +Norah’s memory all through the remainder of the ride home. She was +thoroughly tired now—excitement that had kept her up the day before had +prevented her from sleeping, and she scarcely could keep upright in the saddle. +However, she set her teeth to show no sign of weakness that should alarm her +father, and endeavoured to have a smile for him whenever his anxious gaze swept +her white face. +</p> + +<p> +The relief of seeing the red roof of home! That last mile was the longest of +all—and when at length they were at the gate, and she had climbed stiffly +off her pony, she could only lean against his shoulder and shake from head to +foot. Mr. Linton picked her up bodily and carried her, feebly protesting, into +Mrs. Brown. +</p> + +<p> +“Only knocked up,” he said, in answer to the old woman’s +terrified exclamation. “Bed is all she needs—and hot soup, if +you’ve got it. Norah, dear”—as she begged to be allowed to +remain and help—“you can do nothing just now, except get yourself +all right. Do as I tell you, girlie;” and in an astonishingly short space +of time Norah found herself tucked up in bed in her darkened room, with +Daddy’s hand fast in hers, and a comforting feeling of everything fading +away to darkness and sleep. +</p> + +<p> +It was twilight when she opened her eyes again, and Brownie sat knitting by her +side. +</p> + +<p> +“Bless your dear heart,” she said fervently. “Yes, the old +gentleman’s come, an’ he’s quite comfertable in +bed—though he don’t know no one yet. Dr. Anderson’s gone to +Cunjee, but he’s coming back in his steam engine to stay all night; +an’ your pa’s having his dinner, which he needs it, poor man. +An’ he don’t want you to get up, lovey, for there ain’t +nothin’ you can do. I’ll go and get you something to eat.” +</p> + +<p> +But it was Mr. Linton who came presently, bearing a tray with dainty chicken +and salad, and a glass of clear golden jelly. He sat by Norah while she ate. +</p> + +<p> +“We’re pretty anxious, dear,” he told her, when she had +finished, and was snugly lying down again, astonishingly glad of her soft bed. +“You won’t mind my not staying. I must be near old Jim. I’ll +be glad when Anderson’s back. Try to go to sleep quickly.” He bent +to kiss her. “You don’t know what a comfort your sleep has been to +me, my girlie,” he said. “Good-night!” +</p> + +<p> +It was the third day of the struggle with death over the Hermit’s +unconscious body, and again twilight was falling upon Billabong. +</p> + +<p> +The house was hushed and silent. No footfall was allowed to sound where the +echo might penetrate to the sick-room. Near its precincts Mrs. Brown and the +Melbourne trained nurse reigned supreme, and Dr. Anderson came and went as +often as he could manage the fourteen-mile spin out from Cunjee in his motor. +</p> + +<p> +Norah had a new care—a little fragile old lady, with snowy hair, and +depths of infinite sadness in her eyes, whom Dick Stephenson called +“mother.” The doctor would not allow either mother or son into the +sick-room—the shock of recognition, should the Hermit regain +consciousness suddenly, might be too much. So they waited about, agonisingly +anxious, pitifully helpless. Dick rebelled against the idleness at length. It +would kill him, he said, and, borrowing a spade from the Chinese gardener, he +spent his time in heavy digging, within easy call of the house. But for the +wife and mother there was no help. She was gently courteous to all, gently +appreciative of Norah’s attempts to occupy her thoughts. But throughout +it all—whether she looked at the pets outside, or walked among the autumn +roses in the garden, or struggled to eat at the table—she was listening, +ever listening. +</p> + +<p> +In the evening of the third day Mr. Linton came quickly into the drawing-room. +Tears were falling down his face. He went up to Mrs. Stephenson and put his +hand on her shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s—it’s all right, we think,” he said +brokenly. “He’s conscious and knew me, dear old chap! I was sitting +by the bed, and suddenly his eyes opened and all the fever had gone. +‘Why, Davy!’ he said. I told him everything was all right, and he +mustn’t talk—and he’s taken some nourishment, and gone off +into a natural sleep. Anderson’s delighted.” Then he caught Mrs. +Stephenson quickly as she slipped to his feet, unconscious. +</p> + +<p> +Then there were days of dreary waiting, of slow, harassing convalescence. The +patient did not seem to be alive to any outside thought. He gained strength +very slowly, but he lay always silent, asking no questions, only when Mr. +Linton entered the room showing any sign of interest. The doctor was vaguely +puzzled, vaguely anxious. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think I could go and see him?” Norah was outside the door +of the sick-room. The doctor often found her there—a little silent +figure, listening vainly for her friend’s voice. She looked up +pleadingly. “Not if you think I oughtn’t to,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t believe it would hurt him,” Dr. Anderson said, +looking down at her. “Might wake him up a bit—I know you +won’t excite him.” +</p> + +<p> +So it was that the Hermit, waking from a restless sleep, found by his side a +small person with brown curls that he remembered. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, it’s my little friend,” he murmured, feeling weakly for +her hand. “This seems a queer world—old friends and new, all mixed +up.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m so glad you’re better, dear Mr. Hermit,” Norah +said. She bent and kissed him. “And we’re all +friends—everybody.” +</p> + +<p> +“You did that once before,” he said feebly. “No one had +kissed me for such a long, long while. But mustn’t let you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” asked Norah blankly. +</p> + +<p> +“Because—because people don’t think much of me, Miss +Norah,” he said, a deep shade falling on his fine old face. “They +say I’m no good. I don’t suppose I’d be allowed to be here, +only I’m an old man, and I’m going to die.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you’re not!” Norah cried. “Dr. Anderson says +you’re not! And—and—oh, you’re making a great mistake. +Everyone wants you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Me!” said the Hermit, in sudden bitter scorn. “No, only +strangers like you. Not my own.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you don’t know,” Norah protested. She was painfully +aware of the order not to excite the patient, but it was awful to let him be so +unhappy! “Dad’s not a stranger—he always knew you. And see +how he wants you!” +</p> + +<p> +“Dad?” the Hermit questioned feebly. “Is David Linton your +father?” She nodded, and for a minute he was silent. “No wonder you +and I were friends!” he said. “But you’re not all—not +even you and Davy.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, but—” +</p> + +<p> +He forced a smile, in pity for her perplexity. +</p> + +<p> +“Dear little girl, you don’t understand,” he said. +“There’s something even friendship can’t wipe out, though +such friendship as your father’s can bridge it over. But it’s +always there—a black, cruel gulf. And that’s disgrace!” +</p> + +<p> +Norah could not bear the misery of his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“But if it’s all a horrible mistake?” she said. “If +everybody knew it—?” +</p> + +<p> +“If it’s a mistake!” +</p> + +<p> +The Hermit’s hand was on her wrist like a vice. For a moment Norah +shivered in fear of what her words might have done. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean? For God’s sake, tell me?” +</p> + +<p> +She steadied her voice to answer him bravely. +</p> + +<p> +“Please, you mustn’t get excited, dear Mr. Hermit,” she said. +“I’ll tell you. Dad told me all about it before we found you. +It’s all a terrible mistake. Every one knows you were a good man. +Everyone wants to be friends with you. Only they thought you were dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“I managed that.” His voice was sharp and eager. “I saw the +other body in the river and the rest was easy.” He struggled for calmness +and Norah held a glass of water to his lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Please don’t get excited!” she begged. +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t,” he smiled at her. “Tell me—does +everyone know?” +</p> + +<p> +“Everyone,” Norah nodded. There was a step behind her and a sudden +light flashed into the Hermit’s eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Davy! Is it true? I am cleared?” +</p> + +<p> +“Years ago, old man.” David Linton’s voice was husky. +“All the world wants to make it up to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“All the world—they’re only two!” the sick man said. +“Do they know?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where are they?” +</p> + +<p> +For a moment Mr. Linton hesitated, not knowing what risk he might run. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! for pity’s sake don’t be cautious, David,” the +Hermit begged. “I’ll be calm—anything—only don’t +refuse a starving man bread! Davy, tell me!” +</p> + +<p> +“They’re here, old man.” +</p> + +<p> +“Here! Can I—will they—?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, we’ve got to be careful of you, Jim, old chap,” Mr. +Linton said. “You’ve been a very sick man—and you’re +not better yet. But they’re only living on the hope of seeing +you—of having you again—of making it up to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“And they believe in me?” +</p> + +<p> +“The boy—Dick—never believed a word against you,” Mr. +Linton said. “And your wife—ah, if she doubted, she has paid for it +again and again in tears. You’ll forgive her, Jim?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he said simply. “I’ve been bitter enough God +knows, but it all seems gone. You’ll bring her, Davy?” +</p> + +<p> +But at the word Norah was out of the room, racing along the hall. +</p> + +<p> +Out in the gardens Dick Stephenson dug mightily in the hard soil, and his +mother watched him, listening always. She heard the flying footsteps on the +gravel and turned quickly to meet Norah. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Stephenson, he wants you!” +</p> + +<p> +“Is he worse?” Dick gasped. +</p> + +<p> +“No—I think he’s all right. But he knows everything and he +wants you both!” +</p> + +<p> +In his room the Hermit heard the steps in the hall—the light, slow feet, +and the man’s tread, that curbed its impatience, lingering to support +them. His breath came quickly as he stared at the door. +</p> + +<p> +Then for a moment they faced each other, after the weary years; each gaunt and +wan and old, but in their eyes the light and the love of long ago. The +hermit’s eyes wandered an instant to his son’s face, seeking in the +stalwart man the little lad he knew. Then they came back to his wife. +</p> + +<p> +“Mary!” +</p> + +<p> +“Jim!” She tottered to the bed. +</p> + +<p> +“Jim—can you forgive me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Forgive—oh, my girl!” The two grey heads were close +together. David Linton slipped from the room. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"></a> +CHAPTER XVIII.<br/> +EVENING</h2> + +<p> +They were all sitting on the lawn in the twilight. +</p> + +<p> +Norah had dispensed afternoon tea with laborious energy, ably seconded by Dick, +who carried cups and cake, and made himself generally useful. Then they had +talked until the sun slipped over the edge of the plain. There was so much to +talk of in those days. +</p> + +<p> +The Hermit had been allowed to leave his room a fortnight since. He was still +weak, but strength was coming every day—strength that follows on +happiness. Norah declared he grew better every day and no one contradicted her. +</p> + +<p> +He and his wife sat hand in hand. They were rarely seen any other +way—perfect content on each placid face. Dick lay on the grass at their +feet and smoked, and threw stems of buffalo grass at Norah, who returned them +honourably. Mr. Linton, also smoking, surveyed the group with satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +They had been talking over plans for the future, plans which Mr. Linton’s +masterfulness modified very considerably. +</p> + +<p> +“Go away?” he said. “Certainly not! I’ve engaged your +son as tutor to my daughter, and I really can’t spare him from the poor +neglected child! Then, as you, curiously enough, don’t wish to leave your +son, the course is quite clear—you must stay here.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not going to live on you, Davy.” +</p> + +<p> +“You needn’t. I’m bitterly in need of someone with a head for +figures—a thing I never possessed. You can help me tremendously. And, +good as dear old Brownie is, I know Norah ought to be with a +gentlewoman—to learn the things that aren’t in school books. +It’s the best chance you and I have ever had, isn’t it, Norah? We +aren’t going to let it—or you—slip through our hands.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s—it’s all very well, Davy, old man—” +</p> + +<p> +“I know it is. Now, can’t you let well alone, Jim? Talk of it again +in five years’ time—you may have better luck then. I don’t +say you will—but you may! Hang it all, man, you’re not going to +thwart me when I’ve just got my family together!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I won’t for a while,” the Hermit said-and immediately +received a kiss on the top of his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, Norah,” he said meekly. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t mention it,” Norah answered politely. “Oh, +I’m so glad you’re going to stay with us, Mr. Hermit!” +</p> + +<p> +Norah had flatly declined to call her friend anything but the name she had +given him in the bush. As for the Hermit, he was perfectly content with +anything Norah did and had no idea of objecting. +</p> + +<p> +“You heard, didn’t you, Norah, that they’d found your friend, +the Winfield murderer?” Mr. Linton asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Daddy!—no!” +</p> + +<p> +“Found his body in an old shaft—not far from Winfield. He had the +stolen property on him, so there’s no doubt of his guilt. So that clears +your Hermit, even in your suspicious mind!” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, don’t, Daddy,” Norah said, flushing. “I +wasn’t suspicious. I was a duffer.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think you were,” the Hermit said decidedly. “A +very sensible duffer, anyhow.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“No use trying to come between those two,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Not a bit,” said the Hermit with great cheerfulness. He smiled at +Norah. “You brought me back to life—twice.” +</p> + +<p> +“When I think—but for Norah,” Mrs. Stephenson murmured +brokenly, “no one would have known you were dying in that dreadful +tent.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said the Hermit, “but I didn’t know anything +about it. My best memory is of my little friend who brought me good news when I +was wishing with all my soul that I’d died in the tent!” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t, Jim!” said Mr. Linton. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, between one and another there’s a fair chance of spoiling my +pupil,” laughed Dick, stretching himself. “I’ll have to be +doubly stern to counteract the evil influences, Norah. You can prepare for +awful times. When next Monday comes, Mr. Linton—may it be soon!—you +can say good-bye to your pickle of a daughter. She will come out from my mill +ground into the most approved type of young lady—accomplishments, prunes +and prisms personified!” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Linton laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Will she?” he said, pulling Norah’s hair gently. “I +wonder! Well, you can do your worst, Dick. Somehow, I fancy that under all the +varnish I’ll find my little bush maid.” +</p> + +<p> +The End +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LITTLE BUSH MAID ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. 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