Such Is Life Part 4

"I don't blame ole Martin to have a bit of a nose on me," continued Mosey laughingly. "Lord! didn't I git the loan of him cheap las' summer!

Me an' the ole man was comin' down from Karowra with the last o' the clip; an' these padd.i.c.ks was as bare as the palm o' your hand; so we goes on past here, an' camps half-ways between the fur corner o' the ram-padd.i.c.k an' the station gate; an' looses out about an hour after sundown.

It was sort o' cloudy moonlight that night; an' I takes the carrion straight on, an' shoves 'em in the horse-padd.i.c.k, an' shuts the gate.

Then I fetches 'em into a sort of a holler, where the best gra.s.s was, an' I takes the saddle an' bridle off o' the horse, an' lays down, an' watches the carrion wirin' in. Well, you know, ole Martin, the head boundary man, he's about as nice a varmin as Warrigal Alf; an' the young fellers at the barracks they 'on't corroborate with him, no road; an' he thinks his self a cut above the hut, so he lives with Daddy Montague, in Latham's ole place, down at the fur corner o' the horse-padd.i.c.k. Well, this ole beggar he's buckin' up to Miss King, the governess, an' Moriarty, the storekeeper, he's buckin' up to her too"----

"Clever feller, that Moriarty," interposed Price, in pathetic sycophancy.

"Rummest young (fellow) goin', when he likes to come out. Ain't he, Mosey?" He paused and laughed heartily. "Las' time I unloaded at Runnymede--an' it was on'y one ton lebm; for we was goin' out emp'y for wool, on account o' them two Vic. chaps snappin' our loads.

I disremember if I tole you the yarn when I pulled you at the Willandra.

Anyhow it was raining like (incongruous comparison) when I drawed up at the store; an' Moriarty he fetches me inter the office, an' gives me a stiffener o' brandy. Or whisky? Now, (hair-raising imprecation) if I don't disremember which. But I think it was brandy. Yes, it was brandy."

"Well?" interrogated Mosey, after a pause.

"On'y jist showin' how one idear sort o' fetches up another,"

replied the old man, with simulated ease of manner.

"Well, you are a (adj.) fool. But as I was telling you chaps: About eleven o'clock, who should come dodgin' down the padd.i.c.k but ole Martin.

Bin pokin' roun' after Miss King, I s'pose. He walks right bang through the carrion, thinkin' they was the station bullicks; an' me layin' there, laughin' in to myself. By-'n'-by he stops an' consithers, an' then he goes roun' examinin' them, an' smellin' about, an' then he has a long squint at Valiparaiser; an' in the heel o' the hunt he rounds up the lot, an' sails off to the yard with 'em; an' me follerin'

ready to collar 'em when the coast was clear. By-'n'-by I sees him leavin'

the yard, an' I goes to it, an' lo an' behold you! there was a padlock on the gate as big as a sardine-box."

" Well, we had a bunch o' keys at the camp. I had snavelled 'em at the railway station, las' time we was at Deniliquin, thinkin' they might come in useful. So I heads for the camp at the rate o' knots.

Collars the keys, an' gits a drink o' tea, an' takes a bit o' brownie in my fist, an' back I goes, doin' the trip in about an hour. Providential, one o' the keys fits the lock, so I whips out the carrion, an' shoves 'em down to where the ole sinner took 'em from. Well, there was two station teams in the padd.i.c.k--I s'pose they wanted 'em very early for somethin'-- so I saddles Valiparaiser an' scoots across to where I seen these bullicks when I was goin' for the keys; an' I shoves 'em into the yard; an' I rakes up a ole grey horse, lame o' four legs, an' shoves him in along o' the carrion, an' locks the gate, an' goes back to our lot, an' keeps an eye on 'em till they laid down, fit to bust. Lord! how I laughed that night! I seen Martin watchin us nex' mornin', after we started.

He's got a set on me for that, among other things."

"Hasn't Warrigal Alf got a set on you too?" asked Thompson coldly.

"Strikes me, you're not the safest man in the world to travel with."

"Yes, Alf gives me the prayers o' the Church now an' agen," replied Mosey complacently. "It was this way: The winter afore last, we got a leader in a swap at Deniliquin. Same time I made the keys. Yaller, hoop-horned bullick--I dunno if you seen him with us? Well, this Pilot, you could n't pack him"--Here Cooper slowly rose, and walked across to his wagon--"Lazy mountain o' mullick, that."

"Burden to his own self," a.s.sented Price obsequiously.

"Thick-headed galoot, appearingly," suggested b.u.m.

"Ought to be hunted back to the Sydney side," contributed Dixon.

----"You could n't pack him for a near side leader," resumed Mosey; "but there was nothin' for it but shepherd all night. You might bet yer soul agen five bob, Pilot was off. Whenever he seen a fence, he'd go through it, an' whenever he seen a river, he'd swim it; an' the whole fraternity stringin' after, thinkin' he was on for somethin' worth while. Grand leader, but a beggar to clear. Well, las' year, when we went up emp'y to Bargoona-- same trip the ole man got that wonderful drink off Moriarty--who should we fine there but this Alf, waitin' for wool, an' due for the fust load.

No fear o' him goin' up emp'y nyther. He'd manage to collar six ton"----

"Don't mention that name if you can help it, Mosey," interrupted Cooper, as he returned to the group, carrying a blanket and the little bag of dead gra.s.s which he used as a pillow. "I'm a good-tempered man,"

he continued, in sullen apology; "but it gives me the wilds and the melancholies, does that name."

"Which?--Bargoona?"

"No; the other name. You've got Nosey Alf, an' Warrigal Alf, an' (sheol) knows how many other Alfs. I got reason to hate that name."

"Well," resumed Mosey, after a pause, "as I was tellin' you, this cove he was there; an' it so happened his near side leader had got bit with a snake, an' died; an' as luck would have it, he'd sold the pick of his bullicks to a tank-sinker, an' bought steers in theyre place; an' he had n't another bullick fit to shove in the near side lead to tackle sich a road as he'd got in front of him. Well, this cove he makes fistfuls o' money, but he's always dog-poor, so he"----

"Which cove makes fistfuls o' money?" demanded Price, roused from a reverie by the magic dissyllable.

"Fine out, you (adj.) ole fool. So he was flyblowed as usual in regard o' cash; an' he was badly in want of a near side leader; an' I kep' showin' off this Pilot, shifting wagons from the door o' the shed, an' tinkerin' about; an' he offered us two good bullicks for the counterfit; an' me an' the ole man we hum'd and ha'd, an' let on we did n't want to part with him; an' me as thin as a whippin'-post with watchin'

the yaller-hided dodger every night, to keep him from goin' overland to the bounds o' creation. Well, at long an' at last we swapped level for Valiparaiser. I seen the workin' o' Providence in it from fust to last.

The horse he's worth twenty notes, all out; an' Pilot he was dear at a gift.

I say, Tom; that's a grand horse you got off o' the Far-downer.

Goes like a greyhound. Gosh, you had that bloke to rights.

He's whippin' the cat now like fury. I was chiackin' him about the deal, when he told me you swapped level; an' he wanted to change the subject.

'I'm frightened you'll be short o' gra.s.s to-night,' says he.

'Where you goin' to camp?' says he. The (adj.) fool!"

"What did you tell him?" asked Thompson.

"Ram-padd.i.c.k, of course. You don't ketch me tellin' the truth about where I'm goin' to camp. But you got a rakin' horse, Tom; an' I give you credit for gittin' at the blind side o' the turf-cutter."

"He'll do me well enough for poking about," I replied modestly.

"But how did the other fellow get on with Pilot?"

"It was the fun o' the world," resumed Mosey. "The other feller he left the shed three days ahead of us; an' when we drawed out, an' camped at the Four-mile Tank, this feller's wagon was standin' there yet; an' no sign o' him nor his carrion. I was thinkin' he'd have some fun with Pilot, 'specially on account of havin' to do his bullick-huntin' on foot; for he could n't afford to git another horse till he delivered.

Well, I never seen him agen till to-day when we stopped for dinner; but the feller at the Bilby Well he told me about it when we was goin' back to Bargoona, nex' trip."

"Seems, the other feller he goes out in the mornin' on foot, thinkin' to fine his carrion among that mulgar in the corner to yer left; an' when he got to the corner, there was a hole in the fence, an' the tracks through. Course, he runs the tracks; he runs 'em all day, an' at night he lays down, an' I s'pose he swears his self to sleep.

Nex' mornin', off he scoots agen, an' jist before sundown he hears the bells, an' he pipes the tail end o' the string ahead; an' the front end was jist at the Bilby Well--sixty good mile, if it's an inch, an' scrub all the road. Pilot he had n't thought worth while to go roun'

by the Boundary Tank, to git on the wool track; he jist went ahead like a surveyor, an' the fences was like spiders' webs to him.

It was blazing hot weather; and the other fellow he never seen tucker nor water all the trip, for he wouldn't leave the track. Laugh?

Lord! I thought I'd 'a' busted when the bloke at the well told me.

I noticed the other feller was a bit narked when he seen me on the horse to-day. He's got red o' Pilot."

"Look here, Mosey," said Thompson slowly: "I'd rather--so help me G.o.d-- I'd rather cut my own throat than do a trick like that.

Are n't you frightened of bringing a curse on yourself?"

"I ain't (adj.) fool enough to believe in curses," replied Mosey-- his altered tone nevertheless belying his bravado.

"Simply because you don't keep your eyes open," retorted Thompson.

"Is n't it well known that a grog-seller's money never gets to his children?

Is n't it well known that if you mislead a woman, a curse'll follow you like your shadow? Isn't it well known that if you're disobedient to your parents, something'll happen to you? Is n't it well known that Sabbath-breaking brings a curse on a man that he can't shake off till he reforms? Now you stole that horse in the dirtiest way; and stealing--well, anything except gra.s.s or water--brings as heavy a curse as anything you can do. Mark my words."

"The Jackdaw of Rheims is a case in point," remarked Willoughby aside to me.

"Well," said Price emphatically, and qualifying every word that would bear qualification, "so fur as workin' on Sundays goes, I'm well sure I allus worked on Sundays, an' I'm well sure I allus will; an' I'm well sure 'ere ain't no cuss on me. Why, I dunno what the (complicated expletive) a cuss is! I'll get a blanket fer to lay on,"

he added; "this ground's sorter damp." And he went across to his wagon.

"He's got a curse on him as big as Mount Macedon, and he does n't know it,"

muttered Thompson.

"Bearing out the prophecy," said I aside to Willoughby, "that the sinner, being a hundred years old, shall be accursed."

"You ought to show him a bit more respect, Mosey," remarked Cooper gravely.

"Well, to tell you the truth," replied Mosey frankly, "I got no patience with the ole bunyip. Can't suffer fools, no road."

"Well, I don't want to be shovin' in my jor, but I'd take him to be more rogue than fool," suggested b.u.m.