Part 22 (1/2)

With that surging mob of cattle beside them, the Maluka and Dan had dismounted, and were trying to staunch the flow of blood, while black boys gathered round, and Jack and the Dandy, satisfied that the injuries were not ”too serious,” were leaning over from their saddles congratulating the old horse on having ”got off so easy.” The wound fortunately, was in the thigh, and just a clean deep punch for, as by a miracle, the bull's horn had missed all tendons and as the old campaigner was led away for treatmen he disdained even to limp, and was well within a fortnight.

”Pa.s.sing the time of day with Jack,” Dan called the scrimmage; as we left the field of battle and looking back we found that already the Bromli kites were closing in and sinking and settling earthwards towards the crows who were impatiently waiting our departure--waiting to convert the erst raging scrub bulls into white, bleaching bones.

Travelling quicker than the cattle, we were camped and at dinner at ”Abraham's”--another lily-strewn billabong--when the mob came in, the thirsty brutes travelling with down-drooping heads and lowing deeply and incessantly. Their direction showing that they would pa.s.s within a few yards of our camp fire, on their way to the water, as a matter of course I stood up, and Dan, with a chuckle, a.s.sured me that they had ”something else more important on than chivying the missus.”

But the recollection of that raging mob was too vividly in mind, and the cattle beginning to trot at the sight of the water, decided against them, and the next moment I was three feet from the ground, among the low-spreading branches of a giant Paper-bark. Jackeroo was riding ahead, and flashed one swift, sidelong glance after me but as the mob trotted by he trotted with them as impa.s.sive as a statue.

But we had by no means done with Jackeroo; for as we sat in camp that night at the Springs, with the cattle safe in the yard, shouts of laughter from the ”boys'” camp attracted our attention, and we found Jackeroo the centre-piece of the camp, preparing to repeat some performance. For a second or so he stood irresolute; then, clutching wildly at an imaginary something that appeared to enc.u.mber his feet, with a swift, darting run and a scrambling clamber, he was into the midst of a sapling; then, our silence attracting attention, the black world collapsed in speechless convulsions.

”How the missus climbed a tree, little 'un,” the Maluka chuckled; and the mimicry of action had been so perfect that we knew it could only be that.

Every detail was there: the moment of indecision, the wild clutch at the habit, the quick, feminine lift of the running feet, and the indescribably feminine scrambling climb at the finish.

In that one swift, sidelong glance every movement had been photographed on Jackeroo's mind, to be reproduced later on for the entertainment of the camp with that perfect mimicry characteristic of the black folk.

And it was always so. Just as they had ”beck-becked” and b.u.mped in their saddles with the Chinese drovers, so they imitated every action that caught their fancy, and almost every human being that crossed their path--riding with feet outspread after meeting one traveller; with toes turned in, in imitation of another; flopping, or sitting rigidly in their saddles, imitating actions of hand and turns of the head; anything to amuse themselves, from riding side-saddle to climbing trees.

Jackeroo being ”funny man” in the tribe, was first favourite in exhibitions; but we could get no further pantomime that night, although we heard later from Bett-Bett that ”How the missus climbed a tree” had a long run.

The next day pa.s.sed branding the cattle, and the following as we arrived within sight of the homestead, Dan was congratulating the Maluka on the ”missus being without a house,” and then he suddenly interrupted himself ”Well, I'm blest!” he said. ”If we didn't forget all about bangtailing that mob for her mattress.”

We undoubtedly had, but thirty-three nights, or thereabouts, with the warm, bare ground for a bed, had made me indifferent to mattresses, and hearing that Dan became most hopeful of ”getting her properly educated”

yet.

Cheon greeted us with his usual enthusiasm, and handed the Maluka a letter containing a request for a small mob of bullocks within three weeks.

”Nothing like keeping the ball rolling,”, Dan said, also waxing enthusiastic, while the South-folk remained convinced that life out-bush is stagnation.

CHAPTER XIX

Dan and the Quiet Stockman went out to the north-west immediately, to ”clean up there” before getting the bullocks together; but the Maluka, settling down to arrears of bookkeeping, with the Dandy at his right hand, Cheon once more took the missus under his wing feeding her up and scorning her gardening efforts.

”The idea of a white woman thinking she could grow water-melons,” he scoffed, when I planted seeds, having decided on a carpet of luxuriant green to fill up the garden beds until the shrubs grew. The Maluka advised ”waiting,” and the seeds coming up within a few days, Cheon, after expressing surprise, prophesied an early death or a fruitless life.

Billy Muck, however, took a practical interest in the water-melons, and to incite him to water them in our absence, he was made a shareholder in the venture. As a natural result, the Staff, the Rejected, and the Shadows immediately applied for shares--pointing out that they too carried water to the plants--and the water-melon beds became the property of a Working Liability Company with the missus as Chairman of Directors.

The shadows were as numerous as ever, the rejected on the increase, but the staff was, fortunately, reduced to three for the time being; or, rather, reduced to two, and increased again to three: Judy had been called ”bush” on business, and the Macs having got out in good time.

Bertie's Nellie and Biddie had been obliged to resign and go with the waggons, under protest, of course, leaving Rosy and Jimmy's Nellie augmented by one of the most persistent of all the shadows--a tiny child lubra, Bett-Bett.

Most of us still considered Bett-Bett one of the shadows but she persisted that she was the mainstay of the staff. ”Me all day dust 'im paper, me round 'im up goat” she would say. ”Me sit down all right”.

She certainly excelled in ”rounding-up goat,” riding the old Billy like a race-horse; and with Rosy filling the position of housemaid to perfection, Jimmy's Nellie proving invaluable in her vigorous treatment of the rejected and the wood-heap gossip filling in odd times, life so far as it was dependent on black folk--was running on oiled wheels: the house was clean and orderly, the garden flourished; and as the melons grew apace, throwing out secondary leaves in defiance of Cheon's prophecies, Billy Muck grew more and more enthusiastic, and, usurping the position of Chairman of the Directors, he inspired the shareholders with so much zeal that the prophecies were almost fulfilled through a surfeit of watering. But Cheon's att.i.tude towards the water-melons did not change, although he had begun to look with favour upon mail-matter and station books, finding in them a power that could keep the Maluka at the homestead.

For two full weeks after our return from the drovers' camp our life was exactly as Cheon would have it--peaceful and regular, with an occasional single day ”out-bush”; and when the Maluka in his leisure began to fulfil his long-standing promise of a defence around my garden, Cheon expressed himself well-pleased with his reform.

But even the demands of station books and acc.u.mulated mail-matter can be satisfied in time, and Dan reporting that he was ”getting going with the bullocks,” Cheon found his approval had been premature; for, to his dismay, the Maluka abandoned the fence, and began preparations for a trip ”bush.” ”Surely the missus was not going?” he said; and next day we left him at the homestead, a lonely figure, seated on an overturned bucket, disconsolate and fearing the worst.

Cheon often favoured an upside-down bucket for a seat. Nothing more uncomfortable for a fat man can be imagined, yet Cheon sat on his rickety perch, for the most part chuckling and happy. Perhaps, like Mark Tapley, he felt it a ”credit being jolly” under such circ.u.mstances.