Part 5 (1/2)

”Yes. He's my father.”

For a moment the drover looked at the boy with keen eyes from which nothing could be hidden. They were light-grey eyes, set well apart, and absolutely fearless. He caught and held Sax's glance and seemed to be reading the boy's character. He evidently approved of what he saw, for he held out his hand, which Stobart took at once.

”So you're Boss Stobart's son,” he said. ”I'm sure glad to meet you.

My name's Darby. Mick Darby. Me and your father were mates for close on ten years. You came up to meet him, did you?”

Sax told him a little about the school, and how he and Vaughan had come up to Oodnadatta expecting to meet the drover, and how disappointed they were. He did not mention the mysterious message; but when Mick Darby asked what the boys intended doing, Sax answered promptly that they were looking for a job, as Boss Stobart had sent a note advising them to do this.

”He's likely changed his plans,” said Darby, ”and can't come down for a bit. What sort of a job d'you want?”

By this time Vaughan had come up, and the three whites were sitting near an open pack-bag, eating damper and salt meat, and drinking tea from the drover's quart-pot. To his question as to what sort of job they wanted, there seemed but one reply. Sax's mouth was full at the time, so Vaughan answered:

”This sort, of course.”

Mick smiled at the boy's enthusiasm, and asked: ”Can you ride too?”

The word ”too” pleased Sax immensely, but it stirred his friend to answer, somewhat boastfully:

”I can ride as well as he can--can't I, Sax?”

”You're better than I am,” said Sax generously. ”He is indeed, Mr.

Darby.”

”Well, we'll see. I shan't be starting back till the day after to-morrow. What d'you say to a riding test?” he asked, laughing.

The boys were willing to agree to anything, especially as the station to which Mick was returning was out towards the Musgrave Ranges. ”It's sure a rough place,” said Mick, when he had agreed to take the boys.

”It's out on the edge of cattle country, the Musgraves west of us, and n.i.g.g.e.rs--bad n.i.g.g.e.rs, too. You'll wish you'd never come.” He looked at the eager faces of the two lads and his own suffused with thoughts of the days when he was their age. He remembered all the hard years between, the trips on which he had only just come through alive, the terrors of thirst, the slow torment of being out of tucker, the sc.r.a.ps with blacks, the dreary homeless monotony of the desert, and he said earnestly: ”I'm not urging you to come, mind. I know what you're in for; you don't. But if you want to be men, now's your chance.”

Vaughan's riding test next day was a severe one. ”It's not that I want to make a fool of you,” explained Mick, as they lead the horses out of Archer's yard. ”But there's not a properly quiet horse in my plant.

It's no good your getting your swag ready if you can't ride. What d'you feel like?”

Vaughan said he was feeling fine; but if the truth must be told, his pulses were beating unusually fast as he looked at the bush horses and realized that he was soon to be on top of one of them. The party consisted of the drover, the white boys, and one or two black stockmen, and when they came to a broad expanse of soft sand, Mick said they needn't go any farther.

Vaughan rode three horses. The first was a bay mare, of medium height, short in the back, and with a long rein. ”You'll find her a bit tricky to mount,” said Mick. The animal stood as quiet as a mouse while Vaughan caught her and put the saddle on, but as soon as he tossed the reins over her head, she backed away and started to prance round excitedly. The boy found it impossible to get his foot in the stirrup; as soon as he touched the metal, the mare jumped back. Mick Darby stood by and said nothing, but he interfered when Sax wanted to go and help his friend. ”Let him do it on his own,” he said. ”He won't always have you with him.”

Instead of quietening down, when the mare found she could bluff the lad she pranced about more than ever, and Vaughan saw that, unless he could surprise the animal for a moment, he would have no chance of mounting.

So he kept the reins over her head and started to pat the lovely neck and shoulders. He slowly worked round till he was on the off side--a side from which, normally, no one ever mounts a horse--and let his hand run down the shoulder till it touched the stirrup. The mare stood quite still.

Still patting the animal, Vaughan shortened the rein, and quietly lifted his right foot. As soon as it was in the stirrup, he sprang, and before the surprised horse could recover from its astonishment, he was in the saddle, having mounted from the wrong side.

The blacks shouted their praise, but Vaughan listened only for the drover's voice. Mick laughed heartily. ”Good boy! Good boy!” he said. ”You bluffed her all right. Get off, and I'll show you how to do it on the near side.”

The mare was quite quiet when once the rider was seated, and Vaughan had no difficulty in riding her round or in dismounting. Mick shortened the rein for mounting, and just as the mare began to turn away, as she had done with Vaughan, he took off his hat and put it under the cheek-strap of the bridle, thus blinding the horse on the near side. She stood quite still, and the drover got on and off several times without any difficulty. Then Vaughan tried it in the same way, and found he could do anything with the mare if only he blindfolded the near-side eye when he was mounting.

”She's a good little mare to ride, and as game as a pebble,” said Mick, when the saddle had been taken off her. ”I'll let you have her if you promise to treat her well.”

The next horse was a big raking bay, high in the shoulder, too long and badly coupled in the back, and of a very awkward appearance. Vaughan saddled him up and mounted. The horse stood stock still. Vaughan then shook the reins and it moved on for a few paces, but as soon as the reins were slacked again, it stopped. The boy became impatient.

Nothing is so annoying to ride as a lazy horse. So he shortened the rein. As soon as he did so, the big animal started to move forward, and it got faster and raster as its rider put pressure on the reins.