We of the Never Never

J >> Jeanie Mrs. Aeneas Gunn >> We of the Never Never

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Nothing finds itself outside this courtesy. The Fizzer brings
in great piles of mail-matter, unweighed and unstamped, with many
of the envelopes bursting or, at times, in place of an envelope,
a request for one; and "our officers," getting to work with their
"courtesy," soon put all in order, not disdaining even the licking
of stamps or the patching or renewing of envelopes. Letters
and packets are weighed, stamped, and repaired--often readdressed
where addresses for South are blurred; stamps are supplied for
outgoing mail-matter and telegrams; postage-dues and duties paid
on all incoming letters and parcels--in fact, nothing is left
for us to do but to pay expenses incurred when the account
is rendered at the end of each six months. No doubt our Department
would also read and write our letters for us if we wished it,
as it does, at times, for the untutored.

Wherever it can, it helps the bush-folk, and they, in turn, doing
what they can to help it in self-imposed task, are ever ready to
"find room somewhere" in pack-bags or swags for mail-matter in
need of transport assistance--the general opinion being that "a man
that refuses to carry a man's mail to him 'ud be mean enough to
steal bread out of a bird-cage."

In all the knowledge of the bush-folk, only one man had proved
"mean enough." A man who shall be known as the Outsider, for he
was one of a type who could never be one of the bush-folk, even
though he lived out-bush for generations: a man so walled in with
self and selfishness that, look where he would, he could see
nothing grander or better than his own miserable self, and knowing
all a mail means to a bushman, he could refuse to carry a neighbour's
mail--even though his road lay through that neighbour's run--
because he had had a difference with him.

"Stealing bread from a caged bird wasn't in it!" the homestead
agreed, with unspeakable scorn; but the man was so reconciled
to himself that the scorn passed over him unnoticed. He even missed
the contempt in the Maluka's cutting "Perfectly!" when he hoped
we understood him. (The Outsider, by the way, spoke of the
Never-Never as a land where you can Never-Never gel a bally thing
you want! the Outsider's wants being of the flesh pots of Egypt).
It goes without saying that the Maluka sent that neighbour's mail
to him without delay, even though it meant a four-days' journey
for a "boy" and station horses, for the bush-folk do what they can
to help each other and the Department in the matter of mails,
as in all else.

Fortunately, the Outsider always remained the only exception,
and within a day or two of the Fizzer's visit a traveller passed
through going east who happened to know that the "chap from
Victoria Downs was just about due at Hodgson going back west,"
and one letter went forward in his pocket en route to its owner.
But before the other could be claimed Cheon had opened the last
eighty-pound chest of tea, and the homestead fearing the supply
might not be equal to the demands of the Wet, the Dandy was
dispatched in all haste for an extra loading of stores. And all
through his absence, as before it, and before the Fizzer's visit,
Dan and the elements "kept things humming."

Daily the soakage yielded less and less water, and daily Billy
Muck and Cheon scrimmaged over its yield; for Billy's melons
were promising to pay a liberal dividend, and Cheon's garden was
crying aloud for water. Every day was fiUed with flies, and dust,
and prickly heat, and daily and hourly our hands waved unceasingly,
as they beat back the multitude of flies that daily and hourly
assailed us--the flies and dust treated all alike, but the prickly
heat was more chivalrous, and refrained from annoying a woman.
"Her usual luck!" the men-folk said, utilising verandah-posts
or tree-trunks for scratching posts when not otherwise engaged.
Daily "things" and the elements hummed, and as they hummed
Dan and Jack came and went like Will-o'-the-Wisps--sometimes
from the south-east and sometimes from the north-east;
and as they came and went, the Maluka kept his hand on the helm;
Happy Dick filled in odd times as he alone knew how; a belated
traveller or two passing out came in, and went on, or remained;
Brown of the Bulls sent on a drover ahead of the mob to spy out
the land, and the second letter left the rack, while all who
came in, or went on, or remained, during their stay at the homestead,
stood about the posts and uprights waving off flies, and rubbing
and wriggling against the posts like so many Uriah Heeps, as they
laid plans, gossiped, gave in reports, or "swopped yarns."
The Territory is hardly an earthly paradise just before the
showers. Still, Cheon did all he could to make things pleasanter,
regaling all daily on hop-beer, and all who came in were sure
of a welcome from him--Dan invariably inspiring him with that ever
fresh little joke of his when announcing afternoon tea to the
quarters. "Cognac!" he would call, and also invariably, Dan made
a great show of expectant haste, and a corresponding show
of disappointment, when the teapot only was forthcoming.

But Cheon's little joke and the afternoon tea were only interludes
in the heat and thirst and dust. Daily things hummed faster
and faster, and the South-east Trades skirmished and fought
with the North-west monsoon, until the Willy-Willys, towering higher
and higher sped across the plain incessantly, and whirled,
and spun and danced like storm witches, in, and out and about
the homestead enclosure, leaving its acres ail dust, and only dust,
with the house, lightly festooned in creepers now, and set
in its deep-green luxuriant garden of melons, as a pleasant oasis
in a desert of glare and dust.

Daily and hourly men waved and perspired and rubbed against
scratching posts, and daily and hourly the Willy-Willys whirled
and spun and danced, and daily and hourly as they threatened
to dance, and spin, and whirl through the house, the homestead sped
across the enclosure to slam doors and windows in their faces,
thus saving our belongings from their whirling, dusty ravages;
and when nimbler feet were absent it was no uncommon sight to see
Cheon, perspiring and dishevelled, speeding towards the house like
a huge humming-top, with speeding Willy-Willys speeding after
him, each bent on reaching the goal before the other. Oftentimes
Cheon outraced the Willy-Willys, and a very chuckling,
triumphant Cheon slammed-to doors and windows, but at other
times, the Willy-Willys outraced Cheon, and, having soundly
buffeted him with dust and debris, sped on triumphant in their
turn, and then a very wrathful, spluttering, dusty Cheon sped
after them. Also after a buffeting Cheon w as generally persuaded
an evil spirit dwelt within certain Willy-Willys.

But there is even a limit to keeping things humming during
a Territory November; and things coming to a climax in a succession
of dry thunderstorms, two cows died in the yards from exhaustion,
and Dan was obliged to "chuck it."

"Not too bad, though," he said, reviewing the years work,
after fixing up a sleeping camp for the Wet.

The camp consisted of a tent-fly, extended verandah-like behind
the Quarters, open on three sides to the air and furnished
completely with a movable four-legged wooden bunk: and surveying
it with satisfaction, as the Willy-WiUys danced about it,
Dan reckoned it looked pretty comfortable. "No fear of catching
cold, anyway," he said, and meant it, having got down to the root
of hygiene; for among Dan's pet theories was the theory that
"houses are fine things to catch cold in," backing up the theory
by adding: "Never slept in one yet without getting a cold."

The camp fixed up, Dan found himself among the unemployed,
and, finding the Maluka had returned to station books and the building
of that garden fence, and that Jack had begun anew his horse-breaking
with a small mob of colts, he envied them their occupation.

"Doing nothing's the hardest job I ever struck," he growled,
shifting impatiently from shade to shade, and dratting the flies
and dust; and even sank so low as to envy the missus her house.

"Gives her something to do cleaning up after Willy-Willys,"
he growled further, and in desperation took to outracing
Willy-Willys--"so the missus 'ull have a bit of time for pitching,"
and was drawn into the wood-heap gossip, until Jack provided
a little incidental entertainment in the handling of a "kicker."

But Jack and the missus had found occupation of greater interest
than horse-breaking, gossiping, or spring cleaning--an occupation
that was also affording Dan a certain amount of entertainment,
for Jack was "wrestling with book-learning," which Dan gave us
to understand was a very different thing from "education."

"Still it takes a bit of time to get the whole mob properly
broken in," he said, giving Jack a preliminary caution. Then,
the first lesson over, he became interested in the methods
of handling the mob.

"That's the trick, is it? You just put the yearlings through
the yard, and then tackle the two-year-olds." he commented,
finding that after a run through the Alphabet we had settled down
to the first pages of Bett-Bett's discarded Primer.

Jack, having "roped all the two-year-olds " in that first lesson,
spent all evening handling them, and the Quarters looked on
as he tested their tempers, for although most proved willing,
yet a few were tricky or obstinate. All evening he sat, poring over
the tiny Primer, amid a buzzing swarm of mosquitoes, with the doggedness
all gone from his face, and in its place the light of a fair fight,
and, to no one's surprise, in the morning we heard that
"all the two-year-olds came at his call."

Another lesson at the midday spell roped most of the three-year-olds,
and another evening brought them under the Quiet Stockman's will,
and then in a few more days the four-year-olds and upwards had been
dealt with, and the Primer was exhausted.

"Got through with the first draught, anyway," Dan commented,
and, no Second Book being at our service we settled down to Kipling's
"Just-So Stories." Then the billabong "petering out " altogether,
and the soakage threatening to follow suit, its yield was kept
strictly for personal needs, and Dan and the Maluka gave
their attention to the elements.

"Something's got to happen soon," they declared, as we gasped
in the stifling calm that had now settled down upon the Territory;
for gradually the skirmishings had ceased, and the two great giants
of the Territory element met in the centre of the arena for their
last desperate struggle. Knee to knee they were standing,
marvellously well matched this year, each striving his utmost,
and yet neither giving nor taking an inch; and as they strove
their satellites watched breathlessly.

Even the Willy-Willys had lain down to watch the silent struggle,
and Dan, finding himself left entirely without occupation,
"feared he would be taking to booklearning soon if something
didn't happen!" "Never knew the showers so late," he growled;
and the homestead was inclined to agree that it was the
"dead-finish"; but remembering that even then our Fizzer was
battling through that last stage of the Dry, we were silent,
and Dan remembering also, devoted himself to the "missus,"
she being also a person of leisure now the Willy-Willys were at rest.

For hours we pitched near the restful green of the melon-beds,
and as we pitched the Maluka ran fencing wires through two sides
of the garden fence, while Tiddle'ums and Bett-Bett, hovering
about him, adapted themselves to the new order of things, finding
the line the goats had to stop at no longer imaginary. And as the
fence grew, Dan lent a hand here and there, the rejected and the
staff indulged in glorious washing-days among the lilies of the
Reach; Cheon haunted the vegetable patch like a disconsolate
ghost; while Billy Muck, the rainmaker, hovered bat-like over his
melons, lending a hand also with the fence when called upon.
As Cheon mourned, his garden also mourned, but when the melons
began to mourn, at the Maluka's suggestion, Billy visited the
Reach with two buckets, and his usual following of dogs,
and after a two-mile walk gave the melons a drink.

Next day Billy Muck pressed old Jimmy into the service and,
the Reach being visited twice, the melons received eight buckets
of water Then Cheon tried every wile he knew to secure four
buckets for his garden. "Only four," he pleaded, lavish in his
bribes. But Billy and Jimmy had "knocked up longa a carry
water," and Cheon watched them settle down to smoke, on the verge
of tears. Then a traveller coming in with the news that heavy
ram had fallen in Darwin--news gleaned from the gossiping
wire--Cheon was filled with jealous fury at the good fortune
of Darwin, and taunted Billy with rain-making taunts. "If he were
a rain-maker," he taunted, "he would make a little when he wanted
it, instead of walking miles with buckets," and the taunts rankling
in Billy's royal soul, he retired to the camp to see about it.

"Hope he does the trick," the traveller said, busy unpacking his
team. "Could do with a good bath fairly soon." But Dan cautioned
him to "have a care," settling down in the shade to watch
proceedings. "These early showers'are a bit tricky," he explained,
"can't tell how long they'll last. Heard of a chap once who reckoned
it was good enough for a bath, but by the time he'd got himself
nicely soaped the shower was travelling on ten miles a minute,
and there wasn't another drop of rain for a fortnight, which wasn't
too pleasant for the prickly heat."

The homestead rubbed its back in sympathy against the nearest upright,
and Dan added that "of course the soap kept the mosquitoes dodged
a bit," which was something to be thankful for. "There generally is
something to be thankful for, if you only reckon it out," he assured
all. But the traveller, reduced to a sweltering prickliness
by his exertions, wasn't "noticing much at present," as he rubbed
his back in his misery against the saddle of the horse he was
unpacking. Then his horse, shifting its position, trod on his foot;
and as he hopped round, nursing his stinging toes, Dan found
an illustration for his argument. "Some chaps," he said,
"'ud be thankful to have toes to be trod on"; and ducking to avoid
a coming missile. he added cheerfully, "But there's even an advantage
about having wooden legs at times. Heard once of a chap that
reckoned 'em just the thing. Trod on a death-adder unexpected-like
in his camp, and when the death-adder whizzed round to strike it,
just struck wood, and the chap enjoyed his supper as usual that
night. That chap had a wooden leg," he added, unnecessarily
explicit; and then his argument being nicely rounded off,
he lent a hand with the pack-bags.

The traveller filled in Dan's evening, and Neaves' mate coming
through next day, gave the Quarters a fresh start and then just
before that sundown we felt the first breath of victory from the
monsoon--just a few cool, gusty pufls of wind, that was all,
and we ran out to enjoy them, only to scurry back into shelter,
for our first shower was with us. In pelting fury it rushed
upon us out of the northwest, and rushing upon us, swept over us
and away from us into the south-east, leaping from horizon
to horizon in the triumph of victory.

As a matter of course, it left a sweltering awfulness behind it,
but it was a promise of better things; and even as Dan was
inquiring with a chuckle "whether that chap in the Quarters
had got a bath out of it," a second pelting fury rushed over us,
filling Cheon's heart with joy, and Billy with importance.
Unfortunately it did not fill the water-butts with water,
but already the garden was holding up its head, and Billy
was claiming that he had scored a win.

"Well?" he said, waylaying Cheon in the garden, "Well, me
rainmaker? Eh?" and Cheon's superstitious heart bowed down
before such evidence.

A ten-minutes' deluge half an hour later licked up every grain
of dust, filled the water-butts to overflowing, brought the insect
pest to life as by magic, left a shallow pool in the heart of the
billabong, and added considerably to Billy's importance. Had not
Brown of the Bulls come in during that ten-minutes' deluge, Cheon
would probably have fallen to offering sacrifices to Billy. As it
was, he could only load him with plum-cake, before turning his
attention to the welcoming of Brown of the Bulls.

"What was the boss drover's fancy in the way of cooking?"
he inquired of the missus, bent on his usual form of welcome,
and the boss drover, a great burly Queenslander, with a voice
as burly as his frame, answered for himself with a laughing
"Vegetables! and as many as you think I've room for." Then,
as Cheon gravely measured his inches with his eye, a burly chuckle
shook the boss drover's great frame as he repeated: "Just as many
as you think I can hold," adding in half apology: "been away
from women and vegetables for fifteen months."

"That's nothing," we told him, quoting the man from Beyanst,
but hopeful to find the woman placed first. Then acting on a hint
from Cheon, we took him to the banana clump.

During the evening another five-minutes' deluge gladdened our hearts,
as the "lavender" bugs and other sweet pests of the Territory insect
pest saddened our bodies.

Soon after breakfast-time Happy Dick was across "To see how you've
fared," he said, and then, to the diversion of Brown of the Bulls,
Cheon and Happy Dick rejoiced together over the brimming water-butts,
and mourned because the billabong had not done better, regretting
the while that the showers were so "patchy."

Then while Happy Dick was assuring us that "both Warlochs
were bankers," the Sanguine Scot rode in through the slip-rails
at the North track, waving his hat in greeting and with Bertie
and Bertie's Nellie tailing along behind him.

"Back again!" Mac called, light-hearted as a schoolboy just escaped
from drudgery, while Bertie's Nellie, as a matter of course, was
overcome with ecstatic giggles.

With Mac and the showers with us, we felt there was little left
to wish for, and told Brown of the Bulls that he might now
prepare to enjoy himself, and with a chuckle of anticipation Brown
"hoped" the entertainment would prove "up to samples already
met with," as he could "do with a little enjoyment for a change."

CHAPTER XXII

As a matter of course, Bertie's Nellie quietly gathered the reins
of management into her own hands, and as a matter of course,
Jimmy's Nellie indulged in ear-splitting continuous protest,
and Brown of the, Bulls expressed himself as satisfied, so far,
with the entertaining powers of the homestead.

As a matter of course, we left the servant problem to work out
its own solution, and, also as a matter of course, the Sanguine Scot
was full of plans for the future but particularly bubbling over
with the news that he had secured Tam-o'-Shanter for a partner
in the brumby venture.

"He'll be along in a few days," he explained, confident
that he was "in luck this time all right," and remembering
Tam among the horses at the Katherine, we congratulated him.

As a matter of course, our conversation was all of brumbies,
and Mac was also convinced that "when you reckoned everything
up there was a good thing in it."

"Of course it'll take a bit of jumping round," he agreed.
But the Wet was to be devoted to the building of a strong
holding-yard, a "trap," and a "wing," so as to be able to get
going directly the Wet lifted; and knowing the run well,
and the extent of the brumby mobs on it, Mac then and there set
to work to calculate the "sized mob" that could be "got together
after the Wet," listening with interest to the account of our
brumby encounters out east.

But long before we had done with brumbies Cheon was announcing
dinner in his own peculiar way.

"Din-ner! Mis-sus! Boss! All about!" he chanted, standing
in the open doorway nearest to us; and as we responded to his call,
he held the door of the dining-net and glided into the details
of his menu: "Veg-e-table Soooup!" he sang:" Ro-oast Bee-ef!
Pee-es! Bee-ens! Too-mar-toos! Mar-row!" and listening, we felt
Brown of the Bulls was being right royally welcomed with as many
vegetables as were good for him. But the sweets shrank into
a simple "bakee custard!"

"This is what you might call style!" Mac and Brown of the Bulls
declared, as Cheon waved them to seats with the air of an Emperor,
and for two courses the dinner went forward according to its menu,
but at the third course tinned peaches had usurped the place
of the "bakee custard."

Every one looked surpnsed, but, being of the bush-folk, accepted
peaches and cream without comment, until Cheon, seeing the surprise,
and feeling an explanation was due--anyway to the missus--bent over
her and whispered in a hoarse aside. "Pussy cat been tuck-out custard."

For a moment the bushmen bent over their plates, intent on peaches
and cream; but there is a limit to even a bushman's dignity,
and with a choking gulp Mac exploded, and Brown of the Bulls joining
in with a roar dragged down the Maluka's self-control; and as Cheon
reiterated: "What name all about laugh, missus," chuckled in sympathy
himself. Brown of the Bulls pulled himself together for a moment,
once more to assure us that he was "Satisfied so far."

But the day's entertainment was only just beginning for after comparing
weights and heights, Mac, Jack, Dan and Brown of the Bulls, entered
into a trial of strength,. and a heavy rail having been brought down
from the stackyard, the "caber" was tossed before an enthusiastic
company. The homestead thoroughfare was the arena and around it
stood or sat the onlookers: the Quarters travellers, Happy Dick,
some of the Line Party, the Maluka, the missus, and others,
and as the caber pitched and tossed, Cheon came and went, cheering
every throw lustily with charming impartiality, beating up a frothy
cake mixture the while, until, finally, the cakes being in the oven,
he was drawn, with others, into the competition.

A very jaunty, confident Cheon entered the lists, but a very surprised,
chagrined Cheon retired in high dudgeon. "What's 'er matter!"
he said indignantly. "Him too muchee heavy fellow. S'pose him
little fellow me chuck him all right," explaining a comical failure
with even more comical explanations. Soon after the retirement
of our crestfallen Cheon, hot cakes were served by a Cheon
all rotundity and chuckles once more, but immediately afterwards,
a snort of indignation riveted our attention on an exceedingly
bristling, dignified Cheon, who was glaring across the enclosure
at two of our neighbour's black-boys, one of whom was the bearer
of a letter, and the other, of a long yellow vegetable-marrow.

Right up to the house verandah they came, and the letter was
presented to the Maluka, and the marrow to the missus in the presence
of Cheon's glare and an intense silence; for most of the bush-folk
had heard of the cabbage insult. Cheon had seen to that.

"Hope you will wish me luck while enjoying my little gift,"
said the letter, and mistaking its double meaning, I felt really vexed
with our neighbour, and passing the marrow to Cheon, reflected
a little of his bristling dignity as I said: "This is of no use
to any one here, Cheon; you had better take it away "; and as Cheon
accepted it with a grateful look, those about the verandah,
and those without the garden, waited expectantly.

But there was to be no unseemly rage this time. In dignified
silence Cheon received the marrow--a sinuous yellow insult,
and as the homestead waited he raised it above his head, and stalking
majestically from us towards the finished part of the fence, flung it
from him in contemptuous scorn, adding a satisfied snort as the marrow,
striking the base of a fence post, burst asunder, and the next moment,
after a flashing swoop, he was grovelling under the wires, making
frantic efforts to reach a baby bottle of whisky that had rolled
from within the marrow away beyond the fence. "Cognac!" he gasped,
as he struggled, and then, as shouts greeted his speedy success,
he sat up, adding comicaHy: "My word! Me close up smash him Cognac."
At the thought came his inevitable laughter, and as he leant against
the fence post, surrounded by the shattered marrow, he sat hopelessly
gurgling, and choking, and shaking, and hugging his bottle,
the very picture of a dissolute old Bacchanalian. (Cheon would
have excelled as a rapid change artist). And as Cheon gurgled,
and spluttered, and shook, the homestead rocked with yells of delight,
while Brown of the Bulls rolled and writhed in a canvas lounge,
gasping between his shouts: "Oh, chase him away, somebody; cover him up.
Where did you catch him?"

Finally Cheon scrambled to his feet, and, perspiring and exhausted,
presented the bottle to the Maluka. "My word, me cross fellow!"
he said weakly, and then, bubbling over again at the recollection,
he chuckled: "Close up smash him Cognac all right." And at the sound
of the chuckle Brown of the Bulls broke out afresh:

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