Part 50 (1/2)

Frank couldn't think of it; but could Black-hair get him a young c.o.c.katoo, and leave it with Mr. Sam Buckley for transmission?--would be exceedingly obliged.

Yes, Black-hair could. Thinks, too, what a pleasant sort of chap this parson was. ”Will get him a c.o.c.katoo certainly.”

Then Frank asks may he read them a bit out of the Bible, and neat man says they will be highly honoured. And Black-hair gets out of his bunk and sits listening in a decently respectful way. Opposition are by no means won over. The old hut-keeper sits sulkily smoking, and the yellow-haired man lies in his bunk with his back towards them. Lee had meanwhile come in, and, after recognitions from those inside, sat quietly down close to the door. Frank took for a text, ”Servants, obey your masters,” and preached them a sermon about the relations of master and servant, homely, plain, sensible and interesting, and had succeeded in awakening the whole attention and interest of the three who were listening, when the door was opened and a man looked in.

Lee was next the door, and cast his eyes upon the new comer. No sooner had their eyes met than he uttered a loud oath, and, going out with the stranger, shut the door after him.

”What can be the matter with our friend, I wonder?” asked Frank. ”He seems much disturbed.”

The neat man went to the door and opened it. Lee and the man who had opened the door were standing with their backs towards them, talking earnestly. Lee soon came back without a word, and, having caught and saddled his horse, rode away with the stranger, who was on foot. He was a large, shabbily-dressed man, with black curly hair; this was all they could see of him, for his back was always towards them.

”Never saw Bill take on like that before,” said the neat man. ”That's one of his old pals, I reckon. He ain't very fond of meeting any of 'em, you see, since he has been on the square. The best friends in prison, sir, are the worst friends out.”

”Were you ever in prison, then?” said Frank.

”Lord bless you!” said the other, laughing, ”I was lagged for forgery.”

”I will make you another visit if I can,” said Frank. ”I am much obliged to you for the patience with which you heard me.”

The other ran out to get his horse for him, and had it saddled in no time. ”If you will send a parson round,” he said, when Frank was mounted, ”I will ensure him a hearing, and good bye, sir.”

”And G.o.d speed you!” says Frank. But, lo! as he turned to ride away, Black-hair the sleepy-headed comes to the hut-door, looking important, and says, ”Hi!” Frank is glad of this, for he likes the stupid-looking young fellow better than he fancied he would have done at first, and says to himself, ”There's the making of a man in that fellow, unless I am mistaken.” So he turns politely to meet him, and, as he comes towards him, remarks what a fine, good-humoured young fellow he is, Blackhair ranges alongside, and, putting his hand on the horse's neck, says, mysteriously--

”Would you like a native companion?”

”Too big to carry, isn't it?” says Frank.

”I'll tie his wings together, and send him down on the ration dray,”

says Black-hair. ”You'll come round and see us again, will you?”

So Frank fares back to Toonarbin, wondering where Lee has gone. But Black-hair goes back into the hut, and taking his parrot from the bedplace, puts it on his shoulder, and sits rubbing his knees before the fire. Yellow-hair and the hut-keeper are now in loud conversation, and the former is asking, in a loud, authoritative tone (the neat man being outside), ”whether a chap is to be hunted and badgered out of his bed by a parcel of ---- parsons?” To which the Hut-keeper says, ”No, by ----! A man might as well be in barracks again.” Yellowhair, morally comforted and sustained by this opinion, is proceeding to say, that, for his part, a parson is a useless sort of animal in general, who gets his living by frightening old women, but that this particular parson is an unusually offensive specimen, and that there is nothing in this world that he (Yellow-hair) would like better than to have him out in front of the house for five minutes, and see who was best man,--when Black-hair, usually a taciturn, peaceable fellow, astonishes the pair by turning his black eyes on the other, and saying, with lowering eyebrows,--

”You d----d humbug! Talk about fighting him! Always talking about fighting a chap when he is out of the way, when you know you've no more fight in you than a bronsewing. Why, he'd kill you, if you only waited for him to hit you! And see here: if you don't stop your jaw about him, you'll have to fight me, and that's a little more than you're game for, I'm thinking.”

This last was told me by the man distinguished above as ”the neat man,”

who was standing outside, and heard the whole.

But Frank arrived in due time at Toonarbin, and found all there much as he had left it, save that Mary Hawker had recovered her serenity, and was standing expecting him, with Charles by her side. Sam asked him, ”Where was Lee?” and Frank, thinking more of other things, said he had left him at the hut, not thinking it worth while to mention the circ.u.mstance of his having been called out--a circ.u.mstance which became of great significance hereafter; for, though we never found out for certain who the man was, we came in the end to have strong suspicions.

However, as I said, all clouds had cleared from the Toonarbin atmosphere, and, after a pleasant meal, Frank, Major and Mrs. Buckley, Sam, and Charles Hawker, rode home to Baroona under the forest arches, and reached the house in the gathering twilight.

The boys were staying behind at the stable as the three elders entered the darkened sitting-room. A figure was in one of the easy chairs by the fire--a figure which seemed familiar there, though the Major could not make out who it was until a well-known voice said,--

”Is that you, Buckley?”