For some moments Nic acted involuntarily as he scrambled on his clothes,
feeling, as he did, in a confused way that it was his duty to dress, but
why and wherefore, he had not the most remote idea.
It was cold and raw, and everything went wrong; and as he could not get
himself quite dry, his shirt stuck to him and refused to go on. Those
things which ought to have been in one place had got into another; and
even when the cold water had thoroughly wakened him he did not get on
very well, and felt ill-humoured, stupid, and out of sorts.
"It's so vexatious starting so soon," thought Nic, as lie thrust brush,
comb, and nightshirt into the bag he had nearly packed over night; and
at last he opened the door, just as his father called up the stairs:
"Come, Nic, my boy: they didn't teach you at school to be quick."
"Hush! you'll wake Lady O'Hara," protested the boy.
"I should be puzzled to," replied his father shortly. "Come in here."
"In here" meant the dining-room, where the first person he saw, by the
light of the candles standing on the white breakfast-cloth, was their
hostess.
Nic was quite awake now, and the last trace of ill-temper passed away as
he shook hands.
"I did not expect to see you this morning," he said.
"And did you think I was going to let old friends start without a
comfortable breakfast? Why, it will be days, boy, before you get
another."
"Days?" said Nic.
"To be sure, boy. There is no stage coach for you, and you'll have to
keep with your waggon. These bullocks go about two miles an hour."
This was news to Nic, who had been imbued with some kind of notion that
he was going to get home that same evening, and that was why his father
had started so early.
Sir John entered the room directly after, and the meal was just as if it
had been nine o'clock instead of four in the morning; so that the
travellers were well prepared, when the doctor rose, to say good-bye,
for the cracking of a stock whip and sundry ejaculations and apostrophes
to the bullocks to "come on," and "get over," and "pull," were heard
outside, where a couple of horses freshly brought round were stamping
and pawing the dust, impatient to be off.
The dogs were hurried round from the stables--these being the two
collies intended for the doctor--and after many frantic dashes at the
horses, they were taken forward toward the waggon, where the bullocks
were immediately driven into a state of commotion, and faced round to
lower their horns and receive their enemies.
Finally, however, the two excited animals were safely chained to the
back of the waggon, which started at once with a great deal of whip
cracking and shouting on the part of Brookes, his fellow, Leather, being
perfectly silent, and the black nowhere to be seen.
This start having been accomplished, the doctor returned with his son to
say their final farewells to the governor and his lady.
"There, good-bye, Nic," cried the latter; "it's only a little way off
you live. We think nothing of a few hundred miles here, and we shall be
coming to see you, or you will us before very long. Are you a good
horseman? That's a spirity-looking thing I see you're to ride."
Nic was nonplussed, and his father came to his help:
"Nic hasn't had time to practise much; he'll be a better rider next time
he comes down to the front."
"That's right," cried Lady O'Hara. "There: goodbye, and bless you, my
boy! Give my dear love to your mother, and tell her I shall want to
steal you for a visit first time I come."
"I shall not be able to spare him," said the doctor, who had mounted,
and now held the rein of the second horse. "Come, Nic, boy, up with
you."
Nic nervously raised his foot to the stirrup, made a desperate spring as
he clung to the pommel and cantle of the saddle, and somehow came down
in his seat; but the horse started, and nearly threw him on to its neck.
"Steady!" cried the doctor sharply, as he held the rein firmly; and,
nervous and startled, Nic shuffled back and nipped the saddle with all
the force of which his knees were capable.
"Are you all right, boy?" cried the governor.
"Yes, sir," said Nic, as firmly as he could, though he was wondering how
long it would be before he was all wrong.
"Good-bye, O'Hara," cried the doctor. "You will hear from me when I get
home."
"Good-bye," cried the governor; and, leaning toward his old friend, he
whispered:
"I'd take care: that boy can't ride a bit."
"I know," said the doctor. "Don't let him see that you do. Good-bye."
He touched his horse's sides, and the beautiful beast started to go off
at a canter, but was checked instantly, to keep it in a walk, with the
result that it began to fret and dance. Nic's lighter steed followed
suit, and the boy's position grew moment by moment more desperate. Now
he lost one stirrup, then the other; and it was only by getting a good
grip of the pommel with one hand that he was able to stay on.
Finally, though, the horses were quieted down, and paced together in a
walk, when the doctor said quietly:
"Why, Nic, it's a good thing that it is still dark. I'm afraid we
should have had some remarks made if people had been about."
"I--I never said I could ride, father," said Nic, in a reproachful tone.
"I'm glad you did not, boy. It's a good thing that you have no spurs."
"Is it, father?"
"Of course," cried the doctor; "if you had, Sour Sorrel would have soon
pitched you off."
"I'm very sorry, father," faltered Nic, who felt very miserable as well
as uncomfortable. "Had I better get down and lead him?"
"If you feel so much afraid that you dare not stop on, my boy," said the
doctor drily.
The dawn was coming, and Nic turned to glance at his father's thin,
cleanly cut profile, to see that he was gazing straight before him
towards where the waggon could be dimly seen in front.
"Well, are you?" continued the doctor, without turning his head.
Nic was silent, and the horse stumbled through putting a foot into a
deep rut of the unkept road.
"Hold up, sir--steady, steady!" cried the doctor, drawing more heavily
upon the rein he still held, as well as his own; and then, after Nic had
shuffled back into the seat from which he had again been shaken, "I
said, are you too much alarmed to stop on?"
These words sounded very stern, and stung and hurt the boy to the quick.
"I have never learned to ride, father," he said reproachfully; "and it
is all fresh to me to be mounted upon a spirited horse like this."
"Of course it is: perfectly fresh. Then you feel afraid?"
"Yes, of falling off, father. I have nearly been down three times."
"Six, Nic. Well, get off and climb on to the waggon." Nic drew a deep
breath as his father checked the horses; and, stung more than ever, the
boy kicked his nag with his heels and sent it forward.
"Well, why don't you get down, sir?"
"Because I'd rather keep on and ride, father," said Nic huskily.
"Do you mean that, sir?"
"Yes, father."
"Thank you, Nic," said the doctor, turning to him with a smile. "I like
the boy who is not afraid to own that he is alarmed; and better still to
hear you say through your teeth that you will not be beaten--
metaphorically, of course. Now, then, we understand our position. This
is not boasting, mind--look at me. You see me here?"
"Yes, father," said Nic, feeling envious of the easy, upright position
of his father in the saddle.
"Let me tell you, then, that I feel as easy and comfortable here as if I
were seated upon a cushion in a carriage. More so, for this noble beast
knows me as I know him, and after a fashion we are as one together in
going over the ground. Do you understand what that means, Nic?"
"Yes, father; but you have learned to ride."
"Yes, and more, boy. It means the confidence which comes of knowledge.
When I came out here, years ago, I had not been on horseback for twenty
years; I was a miserable invalid, and when I mounted my horse--a
necessity out in a wild country like this--I suffered a martyrdom of
nervous dread. But I did what you have just done, made up my mind that
I would master my fear and ride, and I won. It took me a whole year.
As for you, it will not take you a month."
"So little time?" cried Nic excitedly.
"Or less. We have about a week's journey before us; and from what I
have just learned, I shall be greatly surprised if you do not canter up
to the station with me, a little stiff and sore about the knees, but
good friends with Sour Sorrel there, and ready to think riding a
delightful accomplishment."
Nic shook his head.
"You don't know me yet, father," said the boy sadly.
"Better than you know yourself," replied the doctor. "But don't let's
waste time. You want to learn?"
"Horribly, father," cried Nic.
"Very well, then. I'll give you a lesson at once."
"Not faster, to begin with?" said Nic quickly.
"No," said the doctor, laughing. "I want to give you confidence, not
destroy it. So now then, to begin with, you shall learn what danger you
run. I am an experienced horseman, I have tight hold of your rein, so
that your horse cannot bolt, and I have promised you not to go faster
than a walk. You see, then, the utmost that could happen in that way
would be that the nag might caper a little."
"Or kick and throw me off."
"He will not kick, boy. He is too well broken. Secondly, you might
lose your seat and come off: If you did, how far would you have to
fall?"
"About four feet, father."
"Say four. Suppose you were on a see-saw at school, would you be afraid
of falling, off four or five or six feet?"
"No, father, of course not."
"Then why should you be afraid of falling that distance from the horse?"
"I don't know," said Nic. "It is because it is all so fresh, I suppose.
Yes, I do: my foot might hang in the stirrup and the horse gallop away
with me, kicking me every time he strode."
"When I am holding him? The stirrups, then: take your feet out."
"Out of the stirrups, father? Is it safe to do so?"
"You were alarmed lest your foot should hang in one. Quick! out with
them. That's right: now draw them up, cross the leathers, and let the
irons hang over on each side. Now how do you feel?"
"As if I must go off on one side or the other, father. The saddle is so
dreadfully slippery."
"Take tight hold of it, then, with your knees, and keep your balance.
That's not right: I said take hold with your knees, not the calves of
your legs."
"That way, father?"
"Yes, that's better. Let your legs go well down, your heels too, and
whatever you do don't touch the pommel with your hand."
That last order was hard, for it was very easy to make a catch at the
pommel so as to hold on.
"Sit up, boy. Don't bend forward. It hurts you a little at first, but
you get more and more used to it every hour. Now, then, we'll walk
gently past the waggon. Don't let the men think you have never been on
a horse before."
The horses' pace being so much faster than that of the bullocks, they
were soon by, after the doctor had spoken in a friendly way to the dogs,
given his men an order or two, and then cast a critical eye over the
sleek, patient oxen, which trudged along with swinging tails and horns
giving a smart rap now and then as they encountered their yoke-fellows.
The track was plainly marked, but it had no pretence of being a road as
it went on and on, to be lost in the distance of the bright grey
morning. Away to their left was the harbour, with its shipping, and
beyond it the ocean; the town lay behind them, and on either side of the
track with its lines of ruts there were plenty of green pasture and
trees scattered here and there--monsters some seemed to be--and in the
openings were great patches of short, scrubby growth.
All at once, as Nic was thinking how peculiar the trees looked in
colour, there came a loud musical series of notes from a grove-like
patch, in which the boy immediately concluded there must be a house.
"Hear that?" said the doctor.
"Yes, father, plainly."
"Well, what do you make of it?"
"Some one playing a kind of flute."
"No, Nic. That is our Australian magpie."
"Magpie?" cried Nic, forgetting his uncomfortable seat; "but magpies at
home in Kent have a harsh kind of laugh."
"Like that?" said the doctor, as a loud, hoarse chuckle arose.
"No: harsher and noisier. Was that the magpie?"
"No, Nic; that was our laughing jackass."
"What! A donkey?"
"No; there he sits, on that bare limb," cried the doctor, pointing up to
a big, heavy-headed, browny-grey bird, which seemed to be watching them,
with its great strong beak on one side.
Nic examined the bird carefully.
"You would not think that was a kingfisher?" said the doctor.
"No," cried Nic; "though the shape is something like, all but the tail,
which is so much bigger."
"But it is a kingfisher all the same, though he does not fish as his
ancestors may have done. He lives on beetles, lizards, mice, and frogs,
and that sort of game. There's your flute-player again."
For the sweet, melodious, whistling notes arose once more, sounding
somewhat as if a person were running the notes of a chord up and down
with different variations.
"It's very sweet," said Nic.
"Yes. The colonists call it the magpie, but it is the piping crow of
Australia. It is one of the earliest singers, and if we'd been here at
daybreak I dare say we should have heard quite a long solo."
Farther on Nic had a good look at one of the piping crows in the
black-and-white jacket which had obtained for it the familiar name of
magpie; but it was far from being like that handsome bird the British
magpie, with its long tail glossed with metallic reflexions of golden
green and purple, and with wing feathers to match.
Two or three times over, out in the open country, the horses startled
Nic by their disposition to go off at a canter, but after being checked
they calmly settled down to their walking pace, which was fast enough to
leave the bullock team behind; consequently Dr Braydon drew rein from
time to time at the summit of some hill or ridge, so that his son might
have a good view of the new land which was henceforth to be his home.
Here he pointed out the peculiar features of the landscape and its
resemblance to an English park, save that, instead of the grassy land
being dotted with oak, beech, elm, or fir, the trees were always what
the doctor called "gum," with their smooth bark and knotted limbs, but
gum trees of several varieties. Here and there a farmstead could be
seen, but they were few and far between; still, where they did show,
with the roughly built houses and their bark or shingle roofs, flocks of
sheep and droves of cattle could be seen scattered widely over the
plain.
"Did you say we should be about a week getting home?" said Nic, after
one of these halts.
"Perhaps longer," said the doctor. "Everything depends on those
crawling gentlemen behind. They have a heavy load: you see there is no
road, and if rain comes, as it is sure to before long, the load will
seem twice as heavy to the patient beasts, and I can't afford to hurry
them and get them out of condition. Rain falls very seldom here, Nic;
but when it does come there's no nonsense about it. There's a river on
ahead which we shall have to cross."
"Then you have bridges," said Nic naively, "if you have no regular
roads?"
"Bridges? No; we shall have to ford it if we were going across to-day,
it would be a few inches deep; if one of our big rain storms comes, it
might be forty or fifty feet. I have seen it sixty."
Nic glanced at his father.
"Simple truth, my boy," he said. "The river is in a deep trough between
two ranges of hills; and if there have been rains we might be detained
on the bank for days or weeks."
"And whereabouts does home lie?" asked Nic.
"Yonder," said his father, pointing toward the north-east. "The air is
wonderfully clear now, and perhaps you can see what I do--that faint
blue ridge that looks like a layer of cloud low down on the horizon."
"Yes, I can see it," said Nic eagerly; "but surely it won't take us a
week to ride there. It looks quite close."
"Yes, in this clear atmosphere, Nic; but it is a long way off, as you
will find before we get there. Of course if we could canter our thirty
or forty miles a day we should soon be there, but we are an escort only.
We want to take care of the waggon."
"But couldn't the men take care of that?"
"Perhaps; but a good master looks after his valuables himself. Brookes
is a pretty trusty man, but the other is a new hand, whom I have lately
had from my neighbour Mr Dillon, the magistrate, and I have not tried
him yet sufficiently to trust. That load contains things that will be
of great value to me, things Lady O'Hara bought me: seeds and
implements, guns, ammunition, powder, and endless odds and ends wanted
by your mother and sisters, who cannot send into the next street to buy
what they want."
"But surely in this wild, open place no one would interfere with the
waggon?"
"Think not? Why, Nic, we have bushrangers--escaped convicts--beside
plenty of people less desperate but more dishonest, without counting the
blacks."
"Are there any of them about here?" asked Nic, with a glance round.
"Perhaps. We hardly know where they may be. You see they belong to
wandering tribes which roam about in search of food. They are here
to-day and gone to-morrow. We never know when they may come."
"Are they dangerous?"
"Yes and no, my boy. We always have to be on our guard, especially in
such a lonely place as ours."
"But why did you go and live in such a lonely spot, father?" said Nic.
"Because the place suited me, my boy. I rode over hundreds of miles of
country before I pitched upon the Bluffs and took up the land. It was
beautiful, the pasture was good, and there was that more than great
necessary we look for in this droughty country--a good supply of water.
I have known squatters out here lose hundreds of cattle and thousands of
sheep in a dry summer, when everything is burnt up."
By this time the bullocks had dragged their load close by, and for the
first time Nic stared at a black figure, dressed in a strip of cloth and
a spear, walking behind the waggon.
"There's one of the blacks, father," whispered Nic, staring at the
shock-headed fellow, who turned a little on one side, and displayed a
short club with a large knob at one end.
"Only the fellow who helped to load," said the doctor.
Nic looked hard, for he had not recognised the man.
"He has got rid of his shirt and trousers, Nic, for the march home.
These blacks are eager to get clothes, but it always seems a misery to
them to wear anything but a bit of cloth."
"But is it never cold here?"
"Very, sometimes--frosty; but they make a bit of a shelter and a tiny
fire, and linger over it till the hot sun comes out, and then forget the
cold. The old people here never even built a hut, Nic--only a shelter--
a rough bit of fence."
In the middle of the day, when the sun came down with tremendous power,
a halt was called beneath the shade of a gigantic gum tree, and Nic for
the first time realised why this name was applied to the one great
family of trees peculiar to the land, for drops of gum which had oozed
out were gleaming red like carbuncles in the hot sunshine.
The doctor sprang from his horse, but Nic sat quite still.
"Dawn with you, my boy," cried his father; but, instead of obeying, Nic
screwed up his face into a peculiar shape.
"I don't feel as if I could, father."
"Oh! Stiff. Down with you, boy. You must work that off."
Nic set his teeth, and rolled off his horse in a most ungraceful way, to
stand feeling as if the ground was unsafe and all on the move.
"Hurt?" said his father, smiling.
"Yes, father. It's as if my legs had been dragged wide apart and
stretched."
"Getting in shape for your saddle, my boy. You'll soon get over this.
Now look here."
Nic did look there, and was shown how to hobble his nag's fore legs to
keep it from straying, and how to unbridle and take off the saddle.
"Always give your horse a good rub down where the saddle has been, Nic,"
said the doctor. "Horses are delicate animals. They deserve good
treatment too. Your nag carries you well, and he looks to you for
payment in food, rest, and good treatment. These make all the
difference in the way a horse will last on a journey. Now, my lads,
come along. Water."
The doctor led the way, and the horses followed like a couple of dogs.
Nic was following too, with the sensation strongly upon him that he
should like to go down on all-fours and follow like a dog, for walking
seemed to be a mode of progress to which he was not accustomed.
"Wait a moment, Nic," said his father. "Unfasten the dogs and lead them
here. They must want water too."
Nic went to where the dogs were chained to the tail of the waggon,
trying to walk firmly and erect, but it was hard work, for his legs
seemed to be independent of his body, and there were moments when he
felt as if he had none at all.
But he tried not to show it, and while the men were unyoking the oxen,
which immediately began to graze on the rich, succulent grass, Nic
proceeded to unchain the dogs.
The task was not so easy as it looked, for the collies were frantic at
the thought of being unfastened, and barked and leaped about wildly. To
make matters worse, they had been hard at work trying to strangle one
another on the way by leaping over their chains, and tying them up in an
almost inseparable knot, one which refused to yield to his fingers; and
after many tries Nic appealed to Brookes.
"I wish you'd come and unfasten this," he said. "I want to take the
dogs to water."
"Take the dogs to water!" grumbled the man. "Why can't they take
themselves? Hi! Leather! Come and untie these dogs."
The younger man left the oxen he was loosening, and approached Nic in a
surly way, hardly glancing at him; but for a few moments the chain-knot
baffled him, while the dogs bounded about wildly.
"Hold them by the collars for a minute," said Leather harshly.
Nic obeyed, feeling mentally lower now, for he seemed to be the servant
instead of the other.
Then he felt better, for the man softened a little in his manner.
"Poor brutes!" he said: "prisoners and thirsty. Steady, my lads,
steady!"
"Oh, they won't be prisoners long," said Nic. "Father's afraid that
they'd run back and try and get on board the ship or to the governor's
house."
"There you are," cried the man, placing the chains in his hand, when, as
if scenting out the water, the two collies started off, with eyes
starting and tongues hanging out of their mouths, tugging and striving
to get on, and forcing Nic to follow at a trot, his legs hurting him for
the first few moments horribly.
They were not long reaching the shady pool where the horses were now
standing in a shallow, with the drops falling from their muzzle.
"Poor beasts! they are thirsty," cried the doctor, as Nic was literally
dragged to the edge of the pool, the dogs striving to plunge right in.
"Don't let them go, Nic."
"But they'll have me in, father."
"Don't let them, boy. Ah!"
Nic had not the least intention of letting them, but as the dogs had
tugged at their chains the boy was forced from a hobble into a trot, and
then, before the doctor could help, he caught one foot in the tough
herbage, tripped, went down, and was dragged a yard or two, and then,
with a rush and tremendous splash, he followed the dogs' plunge off the
bank into deep water, to be towed here and there by the delighted
animals, which swam about, barking, drinking, and threatening to tangle
their chains in a worse knot than before--to wit, round Nic.
But after the first few moments' confusion the boy touched bottom, and
began to wade back, finding it easier to master the dogs in the water
than out.
"Well, that's a nice beginning, Nic!" said the doctor.
"Isn't it horrid?" cried the boy.
"Wet?" said his father laconically. "There, it might have been worse.
Let them drink, and then bring them back to the waggon and tie them up.
We must keep them on the chain till we get them home. Poor fellows,
then!" he cried, reaching down to pat the dripping heads. "There!
you've had as much as is good for you. Come along."
A tug or two at the chains brought the dogs out, to let themselves off,
as it were, and scatter glistening water drops from their shaggy hides,
after which they broke out into a duet of barks, and danced about on the
bank, wagging their tails, evidently inviting Nic to cast sticks into
the water for them to fetch, but they followed quietly enough, with the
horses behind them, lowering their heads to bite playfully at the
collies' waving tails.
"You can get at your portmanteau; it's on the top," said the doctor, as
soon as the dogs were secured. "Get out some dry things. You can make
a dressing-room behind the tree."
All this the boy proceeded to do, and by the time he had changed he felt
none the worse for his involuntary bath, and hung his wrung-out garments
on the scorching waggon-tilt to dry.
This done, he obeyed his father's summons, and found him seated in the
shade, waiting with a basket of provisions, which Lady O'Hara had
provided for their use, while the two men were seated beneath another
tree eating, the black standing on one leg a short distance away,
resting upon his spear and holding the sole of his right foot flat
against his left knee so as to form a peculiar angle. And every now and
then one of the men pitched him a piece of bread, which he caught deftly
and proceeded to eat.
"Just as if he were a dog," thought Nic, as he sat down by his father
and began his _al fresco_ dinner.
And how good it was! He forgot all about the stiffness in his legs in
the pure enjoyment of those moments. No school picnic had ever
approached it, for everything was so gloriously new and fresh. The
beautiful land stretched undulating right away to the blue-tinted
mountains, the water-pool sparkled in the sunshine, the horses and
cattle grazed in the thick rich grass, and the waggon helped to form a
picture against a clump of shrubs, half-covered with yellow flowers,
while a delicious scent of musk filled the air.
Never had repast tasted so delicious; and, with two exceptions, every
living creature seemed to be partaking of this enjoyment in the midst of
the peaceful repose in that lovely spot. The exceptions were the dogs,
which kept on watching them and uttering an uneasy bark now and then,
for the rich grass in which they stood was not to their taste.
Nic went on eating in silence for a few minutes, and then, breaking a
loaf in two, rose and went off to the dogs, which readily attacked the
bread, a long diet of biscuit on board ship having made them fairly
vegetarian in their tastes.
The doctor nodded approval as Nic returned wondering whether he would
receive a reproof, and the wayside meal went on till the doctor spoke.
"Well, Nic," he said, "how do you like the beginning of your rough
life?"
"It's glorious, father," cried the boy eagerly.
"Humph! In spite of the first lesson in riding, the ducking, and this
muddly way of eating--no table-cloth, no chairs or table?"
"Oh, I like it."
"Because it's new and the sun shines?"
"I know that the sun doesn't always shine, father," cried Nic. "I shall
like it, I know."
"That's right. But look: here come some visitors that you have only
seen in cages at home."
Nic had already sprung to his feet, and he walked out from beneath the
tree to gaze excitedly at a flock of white birds that came sailing up,
evidently to alight in the grove, but the sudden appearance of the boy
made them turn off, shrieking harshly, to find a resting-place farther
on, and Nic returned disappointed.
"Legs seem to be better, Nic?" said the doctor.
"Yes; I had forgotten them, father. But those birds!"
"Well, you scared them. You saw what they were?"
"Not white pigeons or gulls?" said Nic. "I could almost have fancied
that they were cockatoos."
"No fancy about it, Nic. They were sulphur crests. You'll see
thousands in the groves down by the river."
"Is there a river about here?"
"Your wet clothes seemed to suggest something of the kind," said the
doctor, laughing.
"But that was a pond," said Nic.
"A water-hole--a deep place in the river. That depression is a river,
Nic," continued the doctor, pointing; "there it runs yonder. You can
trace it by the trees which cluster along its course. It is dried up
now, all but a hole here and there; but after rains it is a rushing
stream, and I dare say a little water is always trickling along its
course from hole to hole a few feet under ground. Now then, pack up the
basket. We shall want it for supper. Have a nap afterwards if you are
tired. I shall not go on for an hour and a half yet."
But Nic wanted no nap--there was too much to see; and it did not seem to
be long before the order was given to yoke the oxen and saddle up.