Back to Billabong Part 34

The flames made mercifully short work of it; they roared and crackled and spat wreathing fiery tongues round the chimneys and up and down the verandah posts; shooting out of the broken windows and turning the white-painted iron of the roof into a twisted and blackened ma.s.s. It fell in presently with a deafening roar, bringing one chimney with it; and soon all that Wally had to look at was a smouldering heap of coals, in the midst of which one chimney stood, tottering and solitary, with the kitchen stove a glowing ma.s.s of red-hot iron, and strangely contorted ma.s.ses of metal that once were beds. The boy uttered a groan.

"And they were so proud of it," he said. "Poor souls--how are they going to stick it?"

He got up presently and made his way round to the back. All the sheds and buildings were burned; he turned with a shudder from where Bob's beloved Kelpie had died at his post chained in helplessness. The metal parts of the buggy, writhed into knots and tangles, lay in the ashes of the big shed; beyond, the pigsty smouldered.

"They've gone, too, I suppose," Wally said. "By George, where are all his stock? They can't all be burned, surely."

There was nothing visible in the bare, black paddocks. He cast a wild look round, and then made for the creek at a staggering run. The fire had died away for lack of material as it neared the banks, for great willows overhung them, a camping-ground for the stock all through the summer heat, and the ground was always beaten hard and bare. Wally uttered a shout of relief as he came to the trees. Below in the wide, shallow pools, all the stock had taken refuge--carthorses and cows, sheep and pigs, all huddled together, wild-eyed and panting, but safe.

They stared up at Wally, dumbly bewildered.

"Poor brutes," said Wally. "Well, you chose a good spot, anyhow. I say, what a jolly good thing Bob let his pigs out. Poor old chap--he's not broke yet." He leaned against the gnarled trunk of a willow for a moment. "Well, I suppose I'd better get up to the gate and tell them--it won't do for Tommy to come on the ruins all of a sudden."

But he realized, as he made his slow way up from the creek, that he was too late. There was a little knot of horses beside the garden gate. His eye caught the light linen habit coats that Tommy and Norah wore. They were looking silently at the blackened heap of ashes, with the tottering chimney standing gaunt in its midst, Bob's face grey under its coating of smoky dust. Norah was holding Tommy's hand tightly. They did not hear Wally as he came slowly across the black powder that had been gra.s.s.

"I suppose the stock have gone, too," Bob said heavily.

"No, they haven't, old man," Wally said. "I believe every head is safe; they're in the creek."

They turned sharply, and cried out at the sight of him--blackened and ragged, his eyes red-rimmed in his grimy face, his hands, cut by the broken window gla.s.s, smeared with dried blood. His coat and shirt, burnt in a score of places, hung in singed fragments round him. There were great holes burnt in his panama hat, even in his riding breeches. Jim flung himself from his horse, and ran to him.

"Wal, old man! Are you hurt?"

"Not me," said Wally briefly. "Only a bit singed. I say, you two, you don't know how sorry I am. Tommy, I wish I could have got here in time."

"You seem to have got here in time to try, anyhow," said Tommy, and her lip trembled. "Are you sure you're not hurt, Wally?" She slipped from her saddle, and came to him. "Were you in the fire?"

"No, I'm truly all right," Wally a.s.sured her. He suddenly realized that he had not known how tired he was; something in his head began to whirl round, and a darkness came before his aching eyes. He felt Jim catch him; and then he was sitting on the ground, propped against the fence, and blinking up at them all, while indignantly a.s.suring them that he had never been better.

"Did you meet the fire? It was away from here before I got here."

"It crossed the road in front of us," Mr. Linton said. "There were a good many men about by that time--we got it stopped before it reached Elston's." His pitying eyes went back to the brother and sister. Anxiety for Wally had drawn them from their own disaster for a moment; now they had moved away together, and stood looking at the ashes of their home, where so many hopes were ashes, too. David Linton went over to them, and put a hand on a shoulder of each.

"You're not to be down-hearted," he said firmly. "It's bad enough, and bitter enough--but it might be worse. The stock are safe, and the land is there--one good shower will turn the paddocks green again. Why, there's even most of your garden left, Tommy. And we'll build the house and sheds better than before."

"You're jolly good, Mr. Linton," Bob said, with dry lips. "But we owe you enough already."

"If you talk that sort of nonsense, I'll be really annoyed," David Linton said. "Why, hard luck comes to all of us--we got burned out ourselves once, didn't we, Norah?"

"Rather--and had to live in tents," said Norah. "No, you'll have to come back to us at Billabong until we build up the cottage again--oh, and, Tommy darling, I've been lonesome for you!" She put a hand on Bob's arm.

"You won't worry, Bob? One bit of bad luck isn't going to beat you!"

"I suppose it won't," Bob said slowly. "There's the insurance money, anyhow. But it was the jolliest little home--and our very own. And I was so jolly proud of being independent."

"Well, you're that still," Jim said. "This is a country where everybody helps everybody else--because you and Tommy come to stay with us, and run your stock for a while on Billabong until your own gra.s.s grows, that isn't going to make you less independent. Wouldn't you do the same for us, if we were in the same box?"

"That goes without saying--and I'm as grateful as I can be," Bob said.

"But the cases are different. I'm deep enough in your debt, as it is.

I--" His lip quivered, and he turned away, staring at the ruins.

"I don't see any good arguing about it, at all events," said Norah, practically. "We're all hot and tired, and I vote we just get home and have tea. We'll all feel better after a tub, and then we can begin to make plans. Come on, Tommy dear, it's just lovely to think we're going to have you."

Bob stood with one hand on the scorched gate.

"I wish I could have got here in time to get out a few things," he muttered.

"Oh, I did that," said Wally, brightening. "I forgot, in the shock of finding all Noah's Ark turned out in the creek. Come along, Tommy, and see my little lot of salvage!"

He dragged himself up from the ground and seized Tommy's hand. They trooped across the lawn.

"I saved the cuckoo clock and that set of Swiss bears," said Wally. "And lots of oddments from goodness knows where--the sort of thing you can't buy in Cunjee. I expect I've hauled out all the things you wouldn't have saved, Tommy, but you'll just have to let me down lightly--I'd have made a shot for the beloved cake tins, only I hadn't time."

"Oh, Wally, you dear old idiot," said Tommy. "And that's how you nearly killed yourself." They came in sight of Wally's heap of loot, and she stopped in amazement.

"Bob--just look!"

"By Jupiter!" said Bob, "you saved my old box! You old brick. How did you manage it? Why, it weighs a ton!"

Tommy was on her knees by the bundles. "Look!" she said. "Look, Bobby!

My silver things--and all Aunt Margaret's, and my little jewel box. And my clothes! How did you do it, Wally?" Suddenly her voice broke. She put her head down on the bundle in a pa.s.sion of sobs.

"That's the best thing she could do," said David Linton gently. He turned to Norah. "Let her cry--and bring her along presently, and we'll take her home. Come along, boys, we'll get the horses and go and see Wally's Noah's Ark."

CHAPTER XVI

BUILDING UP AGAIN

It was three months later, and Billabong lay in the peace of an exquisite autumn evening. The orchard showed yellow and bronze against the green of the pine trees; here and there oak and elm leaves fluttered down lazily upon the lawn. The garden flamed with dahlias and asters, amidst which Hogg worked contentedly. And there was utter content upon the face of David Linton, as he stood on the broad stone steps of his home, and looked towards the setting sun. Beyond the garden gleamed the reed-fringed waters of the lagoon; further yet, the broad paddocks stretched away, dotted with feeding Shorthorns. It was the view, of all others, that he loved--his soul had longed for it during weary years of exile and war. Now, it seemed that he could never tire of looking at it.

Brownie came up from the garden, a basket on her arm laden with splendid mauve and pink asters. David Linton strolled across the gravel sweep to meet her.

"What, Brownie--taking Miss Norah's job, are you?"

"Well, it ain't 'ardly that, sir," Brownie answered. "Miss Norah she done the vases this morning, same as ushul, an' Miss Tommy elpin' her.

Only she wouldn't pick these 'ere astors, 'cause they're 'Oggs best, an'

she didn't like to 'urt 'im; you see she always remembers that onst they go into the 'ouse, 'Ogg, 'e don't see 'em no more. An' she do love 'em in the vases. So I just put the matter sensible like to 'Ogg, an', of course, 'e saw reason and give me 'alf; an' I'll 'ave 'em on the table to-night. Only they've filled every vase in the house already, I believe I'll be druv to puttin' 'em in Mason jars!"

"Miss Norah will love them, no matter what they're in," said Mr. Linton.

"There's no sign of them yet, Brownie--it's nearly time they were home."

"Well, they meant to 'ave a long day's work fixin' the 'ouse," said Brownie comfortably. "Mrs. Archdale druv me over to see them, an' Sarah gave us all afternoon tea--she an' Bill are real toffs in their little new cottage there. Sarah ain't indulgin' in any regrets over that fire!

And they were all busy as bees. Miss Tommy's room's fixed, an' her little sleep-out place off it, and so's Mr. Bob's, an' they were workin'

at the drorin'-room; 'omelike it looked with all their nice old things in it again."

"I'm sure it will," David Linton agreed. "How do you like the new house, Brownie?"

"Why, it's lovely," said Brownie. "An' a fair treat to work, with all them new improvements--no corners to the rooms, an' no silly skirtin'