We of the Never-Never Part 26

Mac would never be other than our impetuous brither Scot, distinct from all other men, for the bush never robs her children of their individuality. In some mysterious way she clean-cuts out the personality of each of them, and keeps it sharply clean-cut; and just as Mac stood apart from all men, so Tam also stood apart, the quiet self-reliant man, though, we had seen among the horses, for that was the real man; and as Mac built castles, and made calculations, Tam put his shoulder to the drudgery, and before Mac quite knew what had happened, he was hauling logs and laying foundations for a brumby trap in the south-east country, while Bertie's Nellie found herself obliged to divide her attention between the homestead and the brumby camp.

As Mac hauled and drudged, the melons paid their first dividend; half-past eleven four weeks drew near; "Just-So Stories" did all they could, and Dan coming in found the Quiet Stockman away back in the days of old, deep in a simply written volume of Scottish history.

Dan had great news of the showers, but had to find other audience than Jack, for he was away in a world all his own, and, bent over the little volume, was standing shoulder to shoulder with his Scottish fathers, fighting with them for his nation. All evening he followed where they led, enduring and suffering, and mourning with them and rejoicing over their final victory with a ringing "You can't beat the Scots," as the little volume, coming to with a bang, roused the Quarters at midnight.

"You can't beat the Scots, missus!" he repeated, coming over in the morning for "more of that sort," all unconscious how true he was to type, as he stood there, flushed with the victories of his forefathers, a strong, young Scot, with a newly conquered world of his own at his feet.

As we hunted for "more of that sort," through a medley of odds and ends, the Quiet Stockman scanned t.i.tles and dipped here and there into unknown worlds, and Dan coming by, stared open-eyed.

"You don't say he's got the whole mob mouthed and reined and schooled in all the paces?" he gasped; but Jack put aside the word of praise.

"There's writing and spelling yet," he said, and Dan, with his interest in booklearning reviving, watched the square chin setting squarer, and was bewildered. "Seems to have struck a mob of brumbies," he commented.

But before Jack could "get properly going" with the brumbies, two travellers rode into the homestead, supporting between them a third rider, a man picked up off the track delirious with fever, and foodless; and at the sight of his ghastly face our hearts stood still with fear.

But the man was one of the Scots another Mac of the race that loves a good fight, and his plucky heart stood by him so well that within twenty-four hours he was Iying contentedly in the shade of the Quarters, looking on, while the homestead shared the Fizzer's welcome with Mac and Tam and a traveller or two.

Out of the south came the Fizzer, lopping once more in his saddle, with the year's dry stages behind him, and the set lines all gone from his shoulders, shouting as he came: "Hullo! What ho! Here's a crowd of us!"

but on his return trip the Fizzer was a man of leisure, and we had to wait for news until his camp was fixed up.

"Now for it!" he shouted, at last joining the company, and Mac felt the time was ripe for his jocular greeting and, ogling the Fizzer, noticed that "The flats get greener every year about the Elsey."

But the Fizzer was a dangerous subject to joke with. "So I've noticed,"

he shouted as, improving on Mac's ogle, he singled him out from the company, then dropping his voice to an insinuating drawl he challenged him to have a deal.

Instantly the Sanguine Scot became a Canny Scot, for Mac prided himself on a horse-deal. And as no one had yet got the better of the Fizzer the company gathered round to enjoy itself.

"A swop," suggested the Fizzer, and Mac agreeing with a "Right ho!" a preliminary hand-shake was exchanged before "getting to business"; and then, as each made a great presence of mentally reviewing his team, each eyed the other with the shrewdness of a fighting c.o.c.k.

"My brown mare!" Mac offered at last, and knowing the staunch little beast, the homestead wondered what Mac had up his sleeve.

We explained our suspicions in asides to the travellers, but the Fizzer seemed taken by surprise. "By George!" he said. "She's a stunner! I've nothing fit to put near her excepting that upstanding chestnut down there."

The chestnut was standing near the creek-crossing, and every one knowing him well, and sure of that "something" up Mac's sleeve, feared for the Fizzer as Mac's hand came out with a "Done!" and the Fizzer gripped it with a clinching "Right ho!"

Naturally we waited for the denouement, and the Fizzer appearing unsuspicious and well-pleased with the deal, we turned our attention to the Sanguine Scot.

Mac felt the unspoken flattery, and with an introductory cough, and a great show of indifference, said: "By the way! Perhaps I should have mentioned it, but the brown mare's down with the puffs since the showers," and looked around the company for approval.

But the Fizzer was filling the homestead with shoutings: "Don't apologise," he yelled. "That's nothing! The chestnut's just broken his leg; can't think how he got here. This'll save me the trouble of shooting him." Then dropping back to that chuckling drawl, and re-a.s.suming the ogle, he added: "The--flats--get--greener--every--year--about--the Elsey," and with a good-humoured laugh Mac asked if "any other gentleman felt on for a swop."

Naturally, for a while the conversation was all of horse deals, until, Happy d.i.c.k coming in, it turned as naturally to dog-fights as Peter and Brown stalked aggressively about the thoroughfare.

Daily we hinted to Happy d.i.c.k that Peter's welcome was wearing out, and daily Happy d.i.c.k a.s.sured us that he "couldn't keep him away nohow." But then Happy d.i.c.k's efforts to keep him away were peculiar, taking the form of monologues as Peter trotted beside him towards the homestead--reiterations of:

"We're not the sort to say nuff, are we, Peter? We'll never say die, will we, Peter? We'll win if we don't lose, won't we, Peter?" Adding, after his arrival at the homestead, a subdued "S--SS-s, go it, Peter!"

whenever Brown appeared in the thoroughfare.

But the homestead's hour of triumph was at hand, for as the afternoon wore on, Happy d.i.c.k found the very best told recital a poor subst.i.tute for the real thing, and thirsting for a further "Peter's latest," hissed: "S--s--ss, go it, Peter!" once too often. For, well, soon afterwards--figuratively speaking--Peter was carried off the field on a stretcher.

True, Brown had only one sound leg left to stand on, but by propping the other three carefully against it, he managed to cut a fairly triumphant figure. But Brown's victory was not to be all advantage to the homestead, for never again were we to hear "Peter's latest."

"Can't beat the Elsey for a good dog-fight! Can you, Peter?" the Fizzer chuckled, as Peter lay licking his wounds at Happy d.i.c.k's feet; but the Quarters, feeling the pleasantry ill-timed, delicately led the conversation to cribbage, and at sun-up next morning Happy d.i.c.k "did a get" to his work, with bulging pockets, leaving the Fizzer packing up and declaring that "half a day at the Elsey gave a man a fresh start."

But Dan also was packing up--a "duplicate" brought in by the Fizzer having necessitated his presence in Darwin, and as he packed up he a.s.sured us he would be back in time for the Christmas celebrations, even if he had to swim for it but before he left he paid a farewell visit to the Christmas dinner. "In case of accidents," he explained, "mightn't see it again. Looks like another case of one apiece," he added, surveying with interest the plumpness of six young pullets Cheon was cherishing under a coop.

"Must have pullet longa Clisymus," Cheon had said, and all readily agreeing, "Of course!" he had added "must have really good Clisymus"; and another hearty "Of course" convincing him we were at one with him in the matter of Christmas, he entered into details.

"Must have big poodinn, and almond, and Clisymus cake, and mince pie," he chuckled, and then after confiding to us that he had heard of the prospective glories of a Christmas dinner at the Pine Creek "Pub.," the heathen among us urged us to do honour to the Christian festival.

"Must have top-fellow Clisymus longa Elsey," he said, and even more heartily we agreed, "of course," giving Cheon carte blanche to order everything as he wished us to have it. "We were there to command," we a.s.sured him; and accepting our services, Cheon opened the ball by sending the Dandy in to the Katherine on a flying visit to do a little shopping, and, pending the Dandy's return we sat down and made plans.

The House and the Quarters should join forces that day, Cheon suggested, and dine under the eastern verandah "No good two-fellow dinner longa Clisymus," he said. And the blacks, too, must be regaled in their humpy.

"Must have Vealer longa black fellow Clisymus," Cheon ordered, and Jack's services being bespoken for Christmas Eve, to "round up a Vealer," it was decided to add a haunch of "Vealer" to our menu as a trump card--Vealers being rarities at Pine Creek. Our only regret was that we lived too far from civilisation to secure a ham. Pine Creek would certainly have a ham; but we had a Vealer and faith in Cheon, and waited expectantly for the Dandy, sure the Elsey would "come out top-fellow."

And as we waited for the Dandy, the Line Party moved on to our northern boundary, taking with it possible Christmas guests; the Fizzer came in and went on, to face a "merry Christmas with damper and beef served in style on a pack-bag," also regretting empty mail-bags--the Southern mail having been delayed en route. Tam and the Sanguine Scot accepted invitations to the Christmas dinner; and the Wet broke in one terrific thunderclap, as the heavens, opening, emptied a deluge over us.

In that mighty thunderclap the Wet rushed upon us with a roar of falling waters, and with them Billy Muck appeared at the house verandah dripping like a beaver, to claim further credit.

"Well?" he said again, "Me rainmaker, eh ?" and the Maluka shouted above the roar and din:

"You're the boy for my money, Billy! Keep her going!" and Billy kept her going to such purpose that by sun-up the billabong was a banker, Cheon was moving over the face of the earth with the buoyancy of a child's balloon, and Billy had five inches of rain to his credit. (So far, eleven inches was the Territory record for one night). Also the fringe of birds was back at the billabong, having returned with as little warning as it had left, and once more its ceaseless chatter became the undertone of the homestead.

At sun-up Cheon had us in his garden, sure now that Pine Creek could not possibly outdo us in vegetables and the Dandy coming in with every commission fulfilled we felt ham was a mere detail.

But Cheon's cup of happiness was to brim over that day, for after answering every question hurled at him, the Dandy sang cheerfully: "He put in his thumb and pulled out a plum," and dragged forth a ham from its hiding-place, with a laughing, "What a good boy am I."

With a swoop Cheon was on it, and the Dandy, trying to regain it, said, "Here, hold hard! I've to present it to the missus with a bow and the compliments of Mine Host." But Cheon would not part with it, and so the missus had the bow and the compliments, and Cheon the ham.

Lovingly he patted it and asked us if there ever was such a ham? or ever such a wonderful man as Mine Host? or ever such a fortunate woman as the missus? Had any other woman such a ham or such a friend in need? And bubbling over with affection for the whole world, he sent Jackeroo off for mistletoe, and presently the ham, all brave in Christmas finery, was hanging like a gay wedding-bell in the kitchen doorway. Then the kitchen had to be decorated, also in mistletoe, to make a fitting setting for the ham, and after that the fiat went forth. No one need expect either eggs or cream before "Clisymus"--excepting, of course, the sick Mac--he must be kept in condition to do justice to our "Clisymus" fare.

What a week it was--all festivities, and meagre fare, and whirring egg-beaters, and thunderstorms, and downpours, and water-melon dividends, and daily visits to the vegetable patch; where Happy d.i.c.k was a.s.sured, during a flying visit, that we were sure of seven varieties of vegetables for "Clisymus."

But alas for human certainty! Even then swarms of gra.s.shoppers were speeding towards us, and by sundown were with us.

In vain Cheon and the staff, the rejected, Bett-Bett every shadow and the missus, danced war-dances in the vegetable patch, and chivied and chased, and flew all ways at once; the gra.s.shoppers had found green stuff exactly to their liking, and coming in clouds, settled, and feasted, and flew upwards, and settled back, and feasted, and swept on, leaving poor Cheon's heart as barren of hope as the garden was of vegetables. Nothing remained but pumpkins, sweet potatoes, and Cheon's tardy watermelons, and the sight of the glaring blotches of pumpkins filled Cheon with fury.

"Pumpee-kin for Clisymus!" he raved, kicking furiously at the hideous wens. Not if he knew it! and going to some stores left in our care by the Line Party, he openly stole several tins of preserved vegetables.

"Must have vegetable longa Clisymus," he said, feeling his theft amply justified by circ.u.mstances, but salved his conscience by sending a gift of eggs to the Line Party as a donation towards its "Clisymus."

Then finding every one sympathetic, he broached a delicate subject. By some freak of chance, he said, the missus was the only person who had succeeded in growing good melons this year, and taking her to the melon beds, which the gra.s.shoppers had also pa.s.sed by, he looked longingly at three great fruits that lay like mossy green boulders among the rich foliage. "Just chance," he reiterated, and surely the missus would see that chance also favoured our "Clisymus." "A Clisymus without dessert would be no Clisymus at all," he continued, pressing each fruit in turn between loving hands until it squeaked in response. "Him close up ripe, missus. Him sing out!" he said, translating the squeak.

But the missus appeared strangely inattentive, and in desperation Cheon humbled himself and apologised handsomely for former scoffings. Not chance, he said, but genius! Never was there white woman like the missus! "Him savey all about," he a.s.sured the Maluka. "Him plenty savey gardin." Further, she was a woman in a thousand! A woman all China would bow down to! Worth ninety-one-hundred pounds in any Chinese matrimonial market. "A valuable a.s.set," the Maluka murmured.

It was impossible to stand against such flattery. Billy Muck was hastily consulted, and out of his generous heart voted two of the mossy boulders to the white folk, keeping only one for "black fellow all about." "Poor old Billy!" He was to pay dearly for his leaning to the white folk.

Nothing was amiss now but Dan's non-appearance; and the egg-beater whirring merrily on, by Christmas Eve, the Dandy and Jack, coming in with wild duck for breakfast and the Vealer, found the kitchen full of triumphs and Cheon wrestling with an immense pudding. "Four dozen egg sit down," he chuckled, beating at the mixture. "One bottle port wine, almond, raisin, all about, more better'n Pine Creek all right "; and the homestead taking a turn at the beating "for luck," a.s.sured him that it "knocked spots off Pine Creek."

"Must have money longa poodin'!" Cheon added, and our wealth lying also in a cheque book, it was not until after a careful hunt that two threepenny bits were produced, when one, with a hole in it, went in "for luck," and the other followed as an omen for wealth.

The threepenny bits safely in, it took the united efforts of the homestead to get the pudding into a cloth and thence into a boiler, while Cheon explained that it would have been larger if only we had had a larger boiler to hold it. As it was, it had to be boiled out in the open, away from the buildings, where Cheon had constructed an ingenious trench to protect the fire from rain and wind.