We of the Never-Never Part 6

Although Mac's description of the House had been apt, he had sadly underrated the furniture. There were FOUR chairs, all "up" to my weight, while two of them were up to the Maluka's. The cane was all gone, certainly, but had been replaced with green-hide seats (not green in colour, of course, only green in experience, never having seen a tan-pit). In addition to the chairs, the dining-table, the four-poster bed, the wire mattress, and the looking gla.s.s, there was a solid deal side table, made from the side of a packing-case, with four solid legs and a solid shelf underneath, also a remarkably steady washstand that had no ware of any description, and a remarkably unsteady chest of four drawers, one of which refused to open, while the other three refused to shut. Further, the dining-table was more than "fairly" steady, three of the legs being perfectly sound, and it therefore only threatened to fall over when leaned upon. And lastly, although most of the plates and all the cups were enamel ware, there was almost a complete dinner service in china. The teapot, however, was tin, and, as Mac said, as "big as a house."

As for the walls, not only were the "works of art" there, but they themselves were uniquely dotted from ceiling to floor with the muddy imprints of dogs' feet--not left there by a Pegasus breed of winged dogs, but made by the muddy feet of the station dogs, as the, pattered over the timber, when it lay awaiting the carpenter, and no one had seen any necessity to remove them. Outside the verandahs, and all around the house, was what was to be known later as the garden, a gra.s.sy stretch of hillocky ground, well scratched and beaten down by dogs, goats, and fowls; fenceless itself, being part of the gra.s.sy acres which were themselves fenced round to form the homestead enclosures. Just inside this enclosure, forming, in fact, the south-western barrier of it, stood the "billabong," then a spreading sheet of water; along its banks flourished the vegetable garden; outside the enclosure, towards the south-east, lay a gra.s.sy plain a mile across, and to the north-west were the stock-yards and house paddock--a paddock of five square miles, and the only fenced area on the run; while everywhere to the northwards, and all through the paddock, were dotted "white-ant" hills, all shapes and sizes, forming brick-red turrets among the green scrub and timber.

"Well!" Mac said, after we had completed a survey. "I said it wasn't a fit place for a woman, didn't I?"

But the Head-stockman was in one of his argumentative moods. "Any place is a fit place for a woman," he said, "provided the woman is fitted for the place. The right man in the right place, you know. Square people shouldn't try to get into round holes."

"The woman's SQUARE enough!" the Maluka interrupted; and Mac added, "And so is the HOLE," with a scornful emphasis on the word "hole."

Dan chuckled, and surveyed the queer-looking building with new interest.

"It reminds me of a banyan tree with corrugated-iron foliage," he said, adding as he went into details, "In a dim light the finished room would pa.s.s for the trunk of the tree and the uprights for the supports of the branches."

But the Maluka thought it looked more like a section of a mangrove swamp, piles and all.

"It looks very like a house nearly finished," I said severely; for, because of the verandah and many promises, I was again hopeful for something approaching that commodious station home. "A few able-bodied men could finish the dining-room in a couple of clays, and make a mansion of the rest of the building in a week or so."

But the able-bodied men had a different tale to tell.

"Steady! Go slow, missus!" they cried. "It may look like a house very nearly finished, but out-bush, we have to catch our hares before we cook them."

"WE begin at the very beginning of things in the Never-Never," the Maluka explained. "Timber grows in trees in these parts, and has to be coaxed out with a saw."

"It's a bad habit it's got into," Dan chuckled; then pointing vaguely towards the thickly wooded long Reach, that lay a mile to the south of the homestead, beyond the gra.s.sy plain, he "supposed the dining-room was down there just now, with the rest of the House."

With fast-ebbing hopes I looked in dismay at the distant forest undulating along the skyline, and the Maluka said sympathetically, "It's only too true, little un'."

But Dan disapproved of spoken sympathy under trying circ.u.mstances. "It keeps 'em from toeing the line" he believed; and fearing I was on the point of showing the white feather he broke in with: "We'll have to keep her toeing the line, Boss," and then pointed out that "things might be worse." "In some countries there are no trees to cut down," he said.

"That's the style," he added, when I began to laugh in spite of my disappointment, "We'll soon get you educated up to it."

But already the Sanguine Scot had found the bright side of the situation, and reminded us that we were in the Land of Plenty of Time. "There's time enough for everything in the Never-Never," he said. "She'll have many a pleasant ride along the Reach choosing trees for timber. Catching the hare's often the best part of the fun."

Mac's cheery optimism always carried all before it. Pleasant rides through shady forest-ways seemed a fair recompense for a little delay; and my spirits went up with a bound, to be dashed down again the next moment by Dan.

"We haven't got to the beginning of things yet," he interrupted, following up the line of thought the Maluka had at first suggested.

"Before any trees are cut down, we'll have to dig a saw-pit and find a pit-sawyer." Dan was not a pessimist; he only liked to dig down to the very root of things, besides objecting to sugar-coated pills as being a hindrance to education.

But the Dandy had joined the group, and being practical, suggested "trying to get hold of little Johnny," declaring that "he would make things hum in no time."

Mac happened to know that Johnny was "inside" somewhere on a job, and it was arranged that Dan should go in to the Katherine at once for nails and "things," and to see if the telegraph people could find out Johnny's whereabouts down the line, and send him along.

But preparations for a week's journey take time, outbush, owing to that necessity of beginning at the beginning of things. Fresh horses were mustered, a mob of bullocks rounded up for a killer, swags and pack-bags packed; and just as all was in readiness for the start, the Quiet Stockman came in, bringing a small mob of colts with him.

"I'm leaving," he announced in the Quarters; then, feeling some explanation was necessary, added, "I WAS thinking of it before this happened." Strictly speaking, this may be true, although he omitted to say that he had abandoned the idea for some little time.

No one was surprised, and no one thought of asking what had happened, for Jack had always steered clear of women, as he termed it. Not that he feared or disliked them, but because he considered that they had nothing in common with men. "They're such terrors for asking questions," he said once, when pressed for an opinion, adding as an afterthought, "They never seem to learn much either," in his own quiet way, summing up the average woman's conversation with a shy bushman: a long string of purposeless questions, followed by inane remarks on the answers.

"I'm leaving!" Jack had said, and later met the Maluka unshaken in his resolve. There was that in the Maluka, however, that Jack had not calculated on a something that drew all men to him, and made Dan speak of him in after-years as the "best boss ever I struck"; and although the interview only lasted a few minutes, and the Maluka spoke only of the work of the station, yet in those few minutes the Quiet Stockman changed his mind, and the notice was never given.

"I'm staying on," was all he said on returning to the Quarters; and quick decisions being unusual with Jack, every one felt interested.

"Going to give her a chance?" Dan asked with a grin, and Jack looked uncomfortable.

"I've only seen the boss," he said.

Dan nodded with approval. "You've got some sense left, then," he said, "if you know a good boss when you see one."

Jack agreed in monosyllables; but when Dan settled down to argue out the advantages of having a woman about the place, he looked doubtful; but having nothing to say on the subject, said nothing; and when Dan left for the Katherine next morning he was still unconvinced.

Dan set out for the north track soon after sun-up, a.s.suring us that he'd get hold of Johnny somehow; and before sun-down a traveller crossed the Creek below the billabong at the south track, and turned into the homestead enclosure.

We were vaguely chatting on all and sundry matters, as we sat under the verandah that faced the billabong, when the traveller came into sight.

"Horse traveller!" Mac said, lazily shading his eyes, and then sprang to his feet with a yell. "Talk of luck!" he shouted. "You'll do, missus!

Here's Johnny himself."

It was Johnny, sure enough; but Johnny had a cheque in his pocket, and was yearning to see the "chaps at the Katherine"; and, after a good look through the House and store, decided that he really would have to go in to the Settlement for--tools and "things."

"I'll be back in a week, missus," he said next morning, as he gathered his reins together before mounting, "and then we shan't be long. Three days in and three out, you know, bar accidents, and a day's spell at the Katherine," he explained glibly. But the "chaps at the Katherine" proved too entertaining for Johnny, and a fortnight pa.s.sed before we saw him again.

CHAPTER VII

The Quiet Stockman was a Scotchman, and, like many Scotchmen, a strange contradiction of shy reserve and quiet, dignified self-a.s.surance. Having made up his mind on women in general, he saw no reason for changing it; and as he went about his work, thoroughly and systematically avoided me.

There was no slinking round corners though; Jack couldn't slink. He had always looked the whole world in the face with his honest blue eyes, and could never do otherwise. He only took care that our paths did not cross more often than was absolutely necessary; but when they did, his Scotch dignity a.s.serted itself, and he said what had to be said with quiet self-possession, although he invariably moved away as soon as possible.

"It's just Jack's way," the Sanguine Scot said, anxious that his fellow Scot should not be misunderstood. "He'll be all there if ever you need him. He only draws the line at conversations."

But when I mounted the stockyard fence one morning, to see the breaking-in of the colts, he looked as though he "drew the line" at that too.

Fortunately for Jack's peace of mind, horse-breaking was not the only novelty at the homestead. Only a couple of changes of everything, in a tropical climate, meant an unbroken cycle of washing-days, while, apart from that, Sam Lee was full of surprises, and the lubras' methods of house-cleaning were novel in the extreme.

Sam was bland, amiable, and inscrutable, and obedient to irritation; and the lubras were apt, and merry, and open-hearted, and wayward beyond comprehension. Sam did exactly as he was told, and the lubras did exactly as they thought fit, and the results were equally disconcerting.

Sam was asked for a gla.s.s of milk, and the lubras were told to scrub the floor. Sam brought the milk immediately, and the lubras, after scrubbing two or three isolated patches on the floor, went off on some frolic of their own.

At afternoon tea there was no milk served. "There was none," Sam explained blandly. "The missus had drunk it all. Missus bin finissem milk all about," he said When the lubras were brought back, THEY said THEY had "knocked up longa scrub," and finished the floor under protest.

The Maluka offered a.s.sistance; but I thought I ought to manage them myself, and set the lubras to clean and strip some feathers for a pillow--the Maluka had been busy with a shot-gun--and suggested to Sam that he might spend some of his spare time shooting birds.

Mac had been right when he said the place was stiff with birds. A deep fringe of birds was constantly moving in and about and around the billabong; and the perpetual clatter of the plovers and waders formed an undercurrent to the life at the homestead.

The lubras worked steadily for a quarter of an hour at the feathers; then a dog-fight demanding all their attention, the feathers were left to the mercy of the winds, and were never gathered together. At sundown Sam fired into a colony of martins that Mac considered the luck of the homestead. Right into their midst he fired, as they slept in long, graceful garlands one beside the other along the branches of a gum-tree, each with its head snugly tucked away out of sight.