We of the Never-Never Part 25

Even the w.i.l.l.y-w.i.l.l.ys had lain down to watch the silent struggle, and Dan, finding himself left entirely without occupation, "feared he would be taking to booklearning soon if something didn't happen!" "Never knew the showers so late," he growled; and the homestead was inclined to agree that it was the "dead-finish"; but remembering that even then our Fizzer was battling through that last stage of the Dry, we were silent, and Dan remembering also, devoted himself to the "missus," she being also a person of leisure now the w.i.l.l.y-w.i.l.l.ys were at rest.

For hours we pitched near the restful green of the melon-beds, and as we pitched the Maluka ran fencing wires through two sides of the garden fence, while Tiddle'ums and Bett-Bett, hovering about him, adapted themselves to the new order of things, finding the line the goats had to stop at no longer imaginary. And as the fence grew, Dan lent a hand here and there, the rejected and the staff indulged in glorious washing-days among the lilies of the Reach; Cheon haunted the vegetable patch like a disconsolate ghost; while Billy Muck, the rainmaker, hovered bat-like over his melons, lending a hand also with the fence when called upon. As Cheon mourned, his garden also mourned, but when the melons began to mourn, at the Maluka's suggestion, Billy visited the Reach with two buckets, and his usual following of dogs, and after a two-mile walk gave the melons a drink.

Next day Billy Muck pressed old Jimmy into the service and, the Reach being visited twice, the melons received eight buckets of water Then Cheon tried every wile he knew to secure four buckets for his garden.

"Only four," he pleaded, lavish in his bribes. But Billy and Jimmy had "knocked up longa a carry water," and Cheon watched them settle down to smoke, on the verge of tears. Then a traveller coming in with the news that heavy ram had fallen in Darwin--news gleaned from the gossiping wire--Cheon was filled with jealous fury at the good fortune of Darwin, and taunted Billy with rain-making taunts. "If he were a rain-maker," he taunted, "he would make a little when he wanted it, instead of walking miles with buckets," and the taunts rankling in Billy's royal soul, he retired to the camp to see about it.

"Hope he does the trick," the traveller said, busy unpacking his team.

"Could do with a good bath fairly soon." But Dan cautioned him to "have a care," settling down in the shade to watch proceedings. "These early showers are a bit tricky," he explained, "can't tell how long they'll last. Heard of a chap once who reckoned it was good enough for a bath, but by the time he'd got himself nicely soaped the shower was travelling on ten miles a minute, and there wasn't another drop of rain for a fortnight, which wasn't too pleasant for the p.r.i.c.kly heat."

The homestead rubbed its back in sympathy against the nearest upright, and Dan added that "of course the soap kept the mosquitoes dodged a bit,"

which was something to be thankful for. "There generally is something to be thankful for, if you only reckon it out," he a.s.sured all. But the traveller, reduced to a sweltering p.r.i.c.kliness by his exertions, wasn't "noticing much at present," as he rubbed his back in his misery against the saddle of the horse he was unpacking. Then his horse, shifting its position, trod on his foot; and as he hopped round, nursing his stinging toes, Dan found an ill.u.s.tration for his argument. "Some chaps," he said, "'ud be thankful to have toes to be trod on"; and ducking to avoid a coming missile, he added cheerfully, "But there's even an advantage about having wooden legs at times. Heard once of a chap that reckoned 'em just the thing. Trod on a death-adder unexpected-like in his camp, and when the death-adder whizzed round to strike it, just struck wood, and the chap enjoyed his supper as usual that night. That chap had a wooden leg," he added, unnecessarily explicit; and then his argument being nicely rounded off, he lent a hand with the pack-bags.

The traveller filled in Dan's evening, and Neaves' mate coming through next day, gave the Quarters a fresh start and then just before that sundown we felt the first breath of victory from the monsoon--just a few cool, gusty puffs of wind, that was all, and we ran out to enjoy them, only to scurry back into shelter, for our first shower was with us. In pelting fury it rushed upon us out of the northwest, and rushing upon us, swept over us and away from us into the south-east, leaping from horizon to horizon in the triumph of victory.

As a matter of course, it left a sweltering awfulness behind it, but it was a promise of better things; and even as Dan was inquiring with a chuckle "whether that chap in the Quarters had got a bath out of it," a second pelting fury rushed over us, filling Cheon's heart with joy, and Billy with importance. Unfortunately it did not fill the water-b.u.t.ts with water, but already the garden was holding up its head, and Billy was claiming that he had scored a win.

"Well?" he said, waylaying Cheon in the garden, "Well, me rainmaker?

Eh?" and Cheon's superst.i.tious heart bowed down before such evidence.

A ten-minutes' deluge half an hour later licked up every grain of dust, filled the water-b.u.t.ts to overflowing, brought the insect pest to life as by magic, left a shallow pool in the heart of the billabong, and added considerably to Billy's importance. Had not Brown of the Bulls come in during that ten-minutes' deluge, Cheon would probably have fallen to offering sacrifices to Billy. As it was, he could only load him with plum-cake, before turning his attention to the welcoming of Brown of the Bulls.

"What was the boss drover's fancy in the way of cooking?" he inquired of the missus, bent on his usual form of welcome, and the boss drover, a great burly Queenslander, with a voice as burly as his frame, answered for himself with a laughing "Vegetables! and as many as you think I've room for." Then, as Cheon gravely measured his inches with his eye, a burly chuckle shook the boss drover's great frame as he repeated: "Just as many as you think I can hold," adding in half apology: "been away from women and vegetables for fifteen months."

"That's nothing," we told him, quoting the man from Beyanst, but hopeful to find the woman placed first. Then acting on a hint from Cheon, we took him to the banana clump.

During the evening another five-minutes' deluge gladdened our hearts, as the "lavender" bugs and other sweet pests of the Territory insect pest saddened our bodies.

Soon after breakfast-time Happy d.i.c.k was across "To see how you've fared," he said, and then, to the diversion of Brown of the Bulls, Cheon and Happy d.i.c.k rejoiced together over the br.i.m.m.i.n.g water-b.u.t.ts, and mourned because the billabong had not done better, regretting the while that the showers were so "patchy."

Then while Happy d.i.c.k was a.s.suring us that "both Warlochs were bankers,"

the Sanguine Scot rode in through the slip-rails at the North track, waving his hat in greeting and with Bertie and Bertie's Nellie tailing along behind him.

"Back again!" Mac called, light-hearted as a schoolboy just escaped from drudgery, while Bertie's Nellie, as a matter of course, was overcome with ecstatic giggles.

With Mac and the showers with us, we felt there was little left to wish for, and told Brown of the Bulls that he might now prepare to enjoy himself, and with a chuckle of antic.i.p.ation Brown "hoped" the entertainment would prove "up to samples already met with," as he could "do with a little enjoyment for a change."

CHAPTER XXII

As a matter of course, Bertie's Nellie quietly gathered the reins of management into her own hands, and as a matter of course, Jimmy's Nellie indulged in ear-splitting continuous protest, and Brown of the, Bulls expressed himself as satisfied, so far, with the entertaining powers of the homestead.

As a matter of course, we left the servant problem to work out its own solution, and, also as a matter of course, the Sanguine Scot was full of plans for the future but particularly bubbling over with the news that he had secured Tam-o'-Shanter for a partner in the brumby venture.

"He'll be along in a few days," he explained, confident that he was "in luck this time all right," and remembering Tam among the horses at the Katherine, we congratulated him.

As a matter of course, our conversation was all of brumbies, and Mac was also convinced that "when you reckoned everything up there was a good thing in it."

"Of course it'll take a bit of jumping round," he agreed. But the Wet was to be devoted to the building of a strong holding-yard, a "trap," and a "wing," so as to be able to get going directly the Wet lifted; and knowing the run well, and the extent of the brumby mobs on it, Mac then and there set to work to calculate the "sized mob" that could be "got together after the Wet," listening with interest to the account of our brumby encounters out east.

But long before we had done with brumbies Cheon was announcing dinner in his own peculiar way.

"Din-ner! Mis-sus! Boss! All about!" he chanted, standing in the open doorway nearest to us; and as we responded to his call, he held the door of the dining-net and glided into the details of his menu: "Veg-e-table Soooup!" he sang: "Ro-oast Bee-ef! Pee-es! Bee-ens! Too-mar-toos!

Mar-row!" and listening, we felt Brown of the Bulls was being right royally welcomed with as many vegetables as were good for him. But the sweets shrank into a simple "bakee custard!"

"This is what you might call style!" Mac and Brown of the Bulls declared, as Cheon waved them to seats with the air of an Emperor, and for two courses the dinner went forward according to its menu, but at the third course tinned peaches had usurped the place of the "bakee custard."

Every one looked surprised, but, being of the bush-folk, accepted peaches and cream without comment, until Cheon, seeing the surprise, and feeling an explanation was due--anyway to the missus--bent over her and whispered in a hoa.r.s.e aside. "p.u.s.s.y cat been tuck-out custard."

For a moment the bushmen bent over their plates, intent on peaches and cream; but there is a limit to even a bushman's dignity, and with a choking gulp Mac exploded, and Brown of the Bulls joining in with a roar dragged down the Maluka's self-control; and as Cheon reiterated: "What name all about laugh, missus," chuckled in sympathy himself. Brown of the Bulls pulled himself together for a moment, once more to a.s.sure us that he was "Satisfied so far."

But the day's entertainment was only just beginning for after comparing weights and heights, Mac, Jack, Dan and Brown of the Bulls, entered into a trial of strength, and a heavy rail having been brought down from the stackyard, the "caber" was tossed before an enthusiastic company. The homestead thoroughfare was the arena and around it stood or sat the onlookers: the Quarters travellers, Happy d.i.c.k, some of the Line Party, the Maluka, the missus, and others, and as the caber pitched and tossed, Cheon came and went, cheering every throw l.u.s.tily with charming impartiality, beating up a frothy cake mixture the while, until, finally, the cakes being in the oven, he was drawn, with others, into the compet.i.tion.

A very jaunty, confident Cheon entered the lists, but a very surprised, chagrined Cheon retired in high dudgeon. "What's 'er matter!" he said indignantly. "Him too muchee heavy fellow. S'pose him little fellow me chuck him all right," explaining a comical failure with even more comical explanations. Soon after the retirement of our crestfallen Cheon, hot cakes were served by a Cheon all rotundity and chuckles once more, but immediately afterwards, a snort of indignation riveted our attention on an exceedingly bristling, dignified Cheon, who was glaring across the enclosure at two of our neighbour's black-boys, one of whom was the bearer of a letter, and the other, of a long yellow vegetable-marrow.

Right up to the house verandah they came, and the letter was presented to the Maluka, and the marrow to the missus in the presence of Cheon's glare and an intense silence; for most of the bush-folk had heard of the cabbage insult. Cheon had seen to that.

"Hope you will wish me luck while enjoying my little gift," said the letter, and mistaking its double meaning, I felt really vexed with our neighbour, and pa.s.sing the marrow to Cheon, reflected a little of his bristling dignity as I said: "This is of no use to any one here, Cheon; you had better take it away "; and as Cheon accepted it with a grateful look, those about the verandah, and those without the garden, waited expectantly.

But there was to be no unseemly rage this time. In dignified silence Cheon received the marrow--a sinuous yellow insult, and as the homestead waited he raised it above his head, and stalking majestically from us towards the finished part of the fence, flung it from him in contemptuous scorn, adding a satisfied snort as the marrow, striking the base of a fence post, burst asunder, and the next moment, after a flashing swoop, he was grovelling under the wires, making frantic efforts to reach a baby bottle of whisky that had rolled from within the marrow away beyond the fence. "Cognac!" he gasped, as he struggled, and then, as shouts greeted his speedy success, he sat up, adding comically: "My word! Me close up smash him Cognac." At the thought came his inevitable laughter, and as he leant against the fence post, surrounded by the shattered marrow, he sat hopelessly gurgling, and choking, and shaking, and hugging his bottle, the very picture of a dissolute old Baccha.n.a.lian. (Cheon would have excelled as a rapid change artist). And as Cheon gurgled, and spluttered, and shook, the homestead rocked with yells of delight, while Brown of the Bulls rolled and writhed in a canvas lounge, gasping between his shouts: "Oh, chase him away, somebody; cover him up. Where did you catch him?"

Finally Cheon scrambled to his feet, and, perspiring and exhausted, presented the bottle to the Maluka. "My word, me cross fellow!" he said weakly, and then, bubbling over again at the recollection, he chuckled: "Close up smash him Cognac all right." And at the sound of the chuckle Brown of the Bulls broke out afresh:

"Chase him away!" he yelled. "You'll kill me between you! I never struck such a place! Is it a circus or a Wild West Show?"

Gravely the Maluka accepted the bottle, and with the same mock gravity answered Brown of the Bulls. "It is neither, my man," he said; "neither a circus, nor a Wild West Show. This is the land the poets sing about, the land where dull despair is king."

Brown of the Bulls naturally wished "some of the poets were about now,"

and Dan, having joined the house party, found a fitting opportunity to air one of his pet grievances.

"I've never done wishing some of them town chaps that write bush yarns 'ud come along and learn a thing or two," he said. "Most of 'em seem to think that when we're not on the drink we're whipping the cat or committing suicide." Rarely had Dan any excuse to offer for those "town chaps," who, without troubling to learn "a thing or two," first, depict the bush as a pandemonium of drunken orgies, painted women, low revenge, remorse, and suicide; but being in a more magnanimous mood than usual, as the men-folk flocked towards the Quarters he waited behind to add, unconscious of any irony: "Of course, seeing it's what they're used to in town, you can't expect 'em to know any better."

Then in the Quarters "Luck to our neighbour" was the toast--"luck," and the hope that all his ventures might be as successfully carried through as his practical joke. After that the Maluka gravely proposed "Cheon,"

and Cheon instantly became statuesque and dignified, to the further diversion of Brown of the Bulls--gravely accepting a thimbleful for himself, and, as gravely, drinking his own health, the Maluka just as gravely "clinking gla.s.ses" with him. And from that day to this when Cheon wishes to place the Maluka on a fitting pedestal, he ends his long, long tale with a triumphant: "Boss bin knock gla.s.s longa me one time."

Happy d.i.c.k and Peter filled in time for the Quarters until sundown, when Cheon announced supper there with an inspired call of "Cognac!" And then, as if to prove that we are not always on the drink, or "whipping the cat, or committing suicide," that we can love and live for others besides self, Neaves' mate came down from the little rise beyond the slip-rails, where he had spent his day carving a headstone out of a rough slab of wood that now stood at the head of our sick traveller's grave.

Not always on the drink, or whipping the cat, or committing suicide, but too often at the Parting of the Ways, for within another twelve hours the travellers, Happy d.i.c.k, the Line Party, Neaves' mate, Brown of the Bulls, and Mac, had all gone or were going their ways, leaving us to go ours--Brown back to hold his bulls at the Red Lilies until further showers should open up all roads, and Mac to "pick up Tam." But in the meantime Dan had become Showman of the Showers.

"See anything?" he asked, soon after sun-up, waving his hands towards the northern slip-rails, as we stood at the head of the thoroughfare speeding our parting guests; and then he drew attention to the faintest greenish tinge throughout the homestead enclosure--such a clean-washed-looking enclosure now.

"That's going to be gra.s.s soon," he said, and, the sun coming out with renewed vigour after another shower, by midday he had gathered a handful of tiny blades half an inch in length with a chuckling "What did I tell you?"

By the next midday, gra.s.s, inches tall, was rippling all around the homestead in the now prevalent northwest breeze, and Dan was preparing for a trip out-bush to see where the showers had fallen, and Mac and Tam coming in as he went out, Mac greeted us with a jocular: "The flats get greener every year about the Elsey."

"Indeed!" we said, and Mac, overcome with confusion, spluttered an apology: "Oh, I say! Look here! I didn't mean to hit off at the missus, you know!" and then catching the twinkle in Tam's eyes, stopped short, and with a characteristic shrug "reckoned he was making a fair mess of things."