"Well, Nic, what does all this mean?" said the doctor on the following
day. "Brookes has been complaining to me that he was busy yesterday
dressing those sheep, when he found Leather, as they call him, my
assigned servant, lazy, careless, and insolent. He was speaking to him
rather sharply, when you suddenly appeared from behind the fence, flew
in a passion, abused him, defended the other man, talked in a way that
would make Leather disobedient in the future, and finally ordered the
man to go away and leave Brookes to do all the work himself. Now then,
my boy, is this true?"
"Well, about half of it, father."
"I'm sorry to hear it, Nic, though I'm glad you are so frank," said the
doctor, rather sternly. "You own to half. Now how much of the other
half would be true if judged by an impartial observer?"
"I don't think any of it, father."
"Humph!" ejaculated the doctor. "This is a great pity, my boy. I
cannot have dissension here at the station. Brookes is a valuable
servant to me, where men with a character are very scarce. He is, I
know, firm and severe to the blacks and to the convict labourers I have
had from time to time, and I must warn you these assigned servants are
not men of good character. Has this Leather been making advances toward
you, and telling you some pitiful tale of his innocency to excite your
compassion?"
"Oh no, father," cried Nic. "He has been as distant and surly to me as
could be."
"Ah! There you see! The man is not well behaved."
"He works well, father, and was doing his best; but Brookes does nothing
but bully and find fault, and he went on so yesterday at the poor fellow
that at last I felt as if I couldn't bear it, and--and I'm afraid I got
in a terrible passion and talked as if I were the master."
"I repeat what I said, Nic. I am very sorry, and I must ask you to be
more careful. You say you played the master?"
"Yes, father."
"Very badly, my lad. He is a poor master who cannot govern his temper.
Men under you always respect quiet firmness, and it will do more in
ruling or governing than any amount of noisy bullying. There, I am not
going to say any more."
"But you don't know, father, how cruelly he uses Leather."
"Neither do you, Nic, I'm afraid. You are young and chivalrous, and
naturally, from your age, ready to magnify and resist what you look upon
as oppression. There, be careful, my lad. I shall keep an eye on
Leather and take notice for myself. As to Brookes, I shall leave
matters to you. I do not ask you to apologise to him, but I should like
you to run over yesterday's business in your own mind, and where you
feel conscientiously that you were in the wrong I should like you to
show Brookes that you regret that portion of what you said. One moment,
and I've done. I want you to recollect that he is a man of fifty, while
you are only about sixteen. Do we understand each other?"
"Oh yes, father," cried the boy, earnestly.
"Then that unpleasant business is at an end. Did you get your specimens
yesterday?"
"No," cried Nic; "the quarrel yesterday upset me, and I could only go
and wander about in the bush thinking about it. I did not shoot a
bird."
"Then go and make up for it to-day," said the doctors smiling.
"But," said Nic, hesitating, "don't you want me, father--to begin work?"
"Yes, by-and-by; not yet. I should like you to have your run about the
place for a week or two more--or a month, say. It will not be waste
time. You cannot see what is going on about a station like this without
learning a great deal that will be invaluable by-and-by. Of course I
shall take you with me for a few runs or rides. By the way, did they
finish emptying the waggon?"
"Oh yes, father; I saw that done, and kept account of the packages that
came over in the _Northumbrian_. I didn't know the rest."
"That was businesslike, and the more so for its being done unasked."
"But Brookes didn't like my being there, father."
"Indeed!" said the doctor slowly. "And the other man--Samson?"
"He liked it, father. We're capital friends. I like him: he's such a
rum old fellow."
"Well, you must get to like Brookes too. Now have your run."
Nic felt better, for the previous day's trouble had sat upon him like a
nightmare. Hurrying to his room he took his gun, and leaving it at the
door was guided by the voices to the big store-room, where Mrs Braydon
and the girls were busy unpacking and arranging some of the stores
brought by the waggon.
Here he was soon dismissed by his sisters, and after promising to be
back in good time, he went off across the home part of the station,
catching sight of Samson, Brookes, and a couple of the blacks busy over
some task in an open shed, which task looked like the stacking up of
bundles of wool rolled neatly together.
"I can't go and tell Brookes I'm sorry before them," thought Nic; "and
I'm afraid I don't feel sorry. I suppose, though, I was a bit in the
wrong. Father knows best; but he wouldn't have let Brookes speak like
that. Brookes wouldn't have dared to do it."
The boy had got about a mile away from the station and into a part of
the doctor's land which looked as if it had been carefully planted with
trees, but his common sense told him that it must be in precisely the
same condition as when he took up that part of the country; and after
stopping to look round and admire the beauty of the place in every
direction, he began to wish that he had brought the two dogs for a run.
"Father says that they are better at home, though, for a bit," he
muttered, as he trudged on again, looking for birds or other game, but
seeing nothing whatever, not so much as a snake.
His direction this time was parallel with the tremendous gorge whose
edge he had stood upon to gaze down; and as in comparison the present
part of the huge estate was, though beautiful, somewhat monotonous in
its constant succession of large ornamental trees and grassy glades, he
was beginning to wish that he had gone in the other direction, to
explore the gully down into which Samson had guided him on the way to
meet the waggon.
"I want to see that tree bridge, too, that we crossed. Never mind: that
will do for another time."
Nic kept on in and out among the trees, glancing at his pocket compass
from time to time, but satisfied of his ability to retrace his steps,
for he was convinced that the huge gorge must be away to his left, so
that if he kept it upon his right in returning he would be certain to
come out correctly.
Every now and then he obtained a grand view of the mountains, with their
prevailing tint of blue in the distance gradually becoming grey,
yellowish brown, red, and of many delicious greens, as the great spurs,
bluffs, and chasms came nearer and nearer till they plunged down into
the gorge.
It looked to be a very fairyland of tempting mystery, waiting to be
explored; and till the trees hid the towering eminences from his sight,
he went on planning endless excursions for the future.
"But it does seem so strange," he said to himself at last, as he wiped
his streaming forehead and stood in the shade of a great green tree,
gazing up in its forest of boughs. "One would think that such an
out-of-the-way place would swarm with birds and wild creatures; while
except flies and beetles nothing seems to live here. Ah!" he cried at
last.
For he had caught sight of something moving among the low scrubby bushes
beyond the next tree, and softly cocking his gun he began to stalk it.
But the next minute he had made up his mind not to fire at what would in
all probability be a kangaroo.
"And I don't want kangaroos," he said; "I want birds." But he wanted to
get as close as he could to the animal, and he stole on and on slowly
for about fifty yards, till, as nearly as he could judge, whatever it
was must be just beyond the next bushes.
Toward these he was creeping, when he started round with a quick jump,
for some one had spoken.
"Are you looking for me, sir?"
There stood Leather bending over a sheep, whose fleece he was relieving
of a strange growth of burrs and prickly, brambly strands with which the
creature was tangled.
"No," said Nic, as soon as he had recovered from his surprise. "I did
not know you were this way. What are you doing?"
"Shepherding, sir," said the man, with a sad, weary-looking smile, which
half fascinated Nic, and he stared at one who seemed to be quite a
different man. "The poor brutes get terribly tangled by these wild
growths, and sheep are not very wise, sir. They're poor, helpless sort
of creatures. As soon as they are helped out of one difficulty they get
into another."
"Yes, I suppose so," said Nic, speaking as if he thoroughly understood
sheep; though his knowledge of the popular old useful animal consisted
in the facts that when they were young they were lambs, that they grew
wool, and that when they were killed they became mutton.
They have so many diseases, too, sir, and so many enemies.
"What, the dingoes?" said Nic.
"Yes, they play the part of the wolf in Europe. It's astonishing how
they have overrun the country."
Nic stared again, but averted his eyes for fear the man should notice
it. This did not seem the Leather he had seen so much of on his way
home and since.
"Are there no wolves, then, here?" he asked.
"No, sir, fortunately for the squatters; and it's a pity they introduced
these dogs."
"They? Who did?"
"Impossible to say, sir. The captain of some ship, I suppose--perhaps
of more than one ship; and they increased and multiplied till they run
wild all over the land."
"Oh no; surely they must always have been here?" said Nic.
Leather shook his head.
"This is a land of surprises, sir," he said quietly. "There were hardly
any, if any, animals here but the kangaroos and the like, when the place
was first settled. Haven't you read all this?"
"No," said Nic; "I have only just left school. But there doesn't seem
to be many even of them."
"Millions," said Leather, smiling, "if you know where to look for them."
"But I haven't seen one since I left home this morning."
"And perhaps passed dozens, sir, from large ones, bigger than I am, down
to the kangaroo rats and mice, not much bigger than those at--in
England."
Nic noticed the man's hesitation, but appeared not to heed it.
"But could you show me any of them?"
"Oh yes, sir, if you wish. They want looking for, but I spend so much
time alone here in the bush that I get to know their habits. Some of
the small ones are pretty little long-legged creatures. Wonderful
jumpers too."
"And you call them all kangaroos?"
"Some people do, sir."
"Kangaroo! Why, that must be a native name."
"Haven't you heard about that, sir?"
"Heard what?"
"About their name, sir?"
"No--nothing."
"They say that when the first people met the blackfellows they asked
them what they called the leaping creatures they saw hopping along so
far on two legs, like animal grasshoppers; and the blacks said
`Kangaroo.'"
"Yes, I thought it would be a native name."
Leather smiled.
"No, sir; `kangaroo' is the blackfellows' way of saying `I don't know
what you mean.'"
"Could you show me where I could shoot one of those Blue Mountain
parrots, Leather?" said Nic, after a pause, during which the boy stood
thoughtful and wondering at his companion's change of manner.
"Oh yes, I think so, sir. There are plenty about."
"I haven't seen one for days; when I did I had no gun; and besides, I
was not ready to stuff it."
"This is not a good time of day to look after them, sir; but I dare say
you have passed plenty."
"No--not one."
Leather smiled faintly.
"They are very quiet, like most birds in the heat of the day, and are
sitting up among the leaves, huddled up and with their feathers all
loose, so that you don't see the bright underpart, and their backs and
sides are all green like the leaves. It wants practice to see them."
"When is the best time, then?"
"Early in the morning, when it is cool and fresh, and they are just off
to feed. You hear them whistling and shrieking to each other then."
"But do you think you could show me one now?"
"I'll try if you like, sir," said Leather quietly. "One of the blacks
would soon show you, but my eyes are not so well trained as theirs."
The man led on, and Nic followed on tiptoe, thinking of how different he
was, and wondering why so strong a feeling of dislike to him had sprung
up: why, too, a man of bad character and a convict should be able to
speak so well and take so much interest in the things about him.
"You need not walk so carefully, sir," he said; "and you can talk. The
birds will not fly off. They trust to their colours keeping them
hidden. These sheep look well, sir."
"Yes," replied Nic, without glancing at the white-fleeced creatures
feeding about, for he was thinking of the scene of the day before and
felt afraid that Leather would allude to it.
But he did not, for he seemed disposed to talk quietly and respectfully
of the different things about them as they went on through the openly
wooded region for about a mile.
"Like honey, sir?" he said.
"Oh yes. Do people keep bees out here?"
"Well, sir," said Leather, smiling pleasantly, "Dame Nature does. There
are plenty of wild bees. There's a nest up just above that fork."
He pointed to a spot about forty feet from the ground, where what
appeared to be some flies were darting about a hole.
"Those are not bees," said Nic, gazing up at the place where the bark
appeared to be split and a portion of the tree decayed.
"Yes, sir--Australian wild bees. They make plenty of delicious honey."
"Where you can't get at it!"
"Oh yes; a man who can climb would get it. The bark of these trees is
soft and easily cut through."
"But the bees would sting him to death while he was doing it."
"If they could, sir; but these bees out here are harmless. I've seen
the naked blacks climb up, with a piece of smouldering, smoking wood to
drive the insects away, and then rob a nest. They would not have much
protection from the insects if they were attacked."
"Well, no, not much," said Nic, laughing. "But the nests must be hard
to find. You won't know that place again."
"Oh yes, sir," said Leather quietly, as he stood glancing up in the
tree. "You see I brought you straight here. Besides, after seeing one
of the blacks track the bees home it is very easy, for the country is so
open. It is not like being in the dense scrub."
"How do they track them?" asked Nic.
"Catch a bee when it is busy in a flower, touch its back with a tiny
speck of gum from one of the trees, and touch the gum with a tuft of
that white silky wool--"; and he picked a scrap from the seed-vessel of
one of the trees.
"And what good does that do?" asked Nic.
"Good, sir? The white cotton is easily seen when the bee flies
homeward, the black chasing it till perhaps he loses it. But he has got
nearer to the nest, and he will do this again with other bees, till he
comes at last to the place where the nest is."
"And did you find that nest so?"
"Yes," said Leather quietly. "I lost sight of the first bee about forty
yards away; the next bee I missed too, but the last showed me the way at
once. Now, then: look straight up there."
"Oh, I can see them flying in and out plainly enough," replied Nic.
"I was not talking about the bees then, sir. I mean away to the right a
little, and a good fifty feet higher."
"Don't see anything, only the sun coming through like silver rain."
"To the right of that, sir, where the leaves are thickest. Now can you
see?"
"I can see where the leaves are thickest, that's all. What am I to look
at?"
"The paroquets."
"What?" cried Nic excitedly, as he gave himself an aching sensation in
the back of the neck from the awkward position he assumed: "I can't see
anything."
"Look again, sir. They are hard to see. I can count six together, and
one which seems to be a handsome cock bird, quite by itself."
"That's the one I want," said Nic in a whisper, as he cocked his gun and
stood peering up in the part indicated, but only to have his eyes
dazzled by the rays which shot down from above.
"You see it now, sir?" said Leather quietly.
"Nor; nothing but leaves and twigs--nothing else. Are you sure you can
see the birds?"
"Yes, sir, quite. My eyes are more used to this sort of thing than
yours. I have been so much alone in the bush, often with no companions
but the sheep or the blacks."
"And are they friendly to you?"
"Oh yes; in their way, sir."
"But look here: are you really sure that you can see some of those
parrots now?"
"Certain, sir," said Leather, smiling. "Try and follow my finger.
There: now you can see them."
Nic had a long look, and then shook his head in despair.
"I'm sorry you cannot see them, sir. Would you like me to shoot that
bird for you?"
"Yes," cried Nic, holding out his gun. "No!" he said, drawing it
sharply back.
"Because you think, sir, it is a ruse on my part to get possession of
your gun and then go off as a bushranger," said Leather bitterly.
Nic coloured deeply as a girl, but he tossed up his head.
"Well," he said sharply, "that's true; I could not help thinking it."
"I suppose not," said the man sadly. And he turned away.
"You know you got hold of me out there by the precipice and talked about
dropping me over."
"Yes," said Leather, starting. "It was the act of a fool; but I felt
very bitter that day, sir."
"And how do I know that you don't feel bitter to-day?"
"Hah! How indeed!" cried the man.
Nic hesitated a moment, and then, ashamed of his suspicions, he held out
the gun.
"Shoot the bird for me," he said.
Leather looked at him keenly.
"I don't think so now," said Nic, as the man drew back frowning. "I
want the bird. I can't see it. I know you wouldn't trick me."
The man snatched the gun almost fiercely, examining the priming; and it
was hard work for Nic to stand fast and force himself not to believe
that he had done a foolish thing. But he did stand firm and met
Leather's flashing eyes.
He was not long kept in suspense, for, without a moment's hesitation,
Leather took aim. There was a flash, a puff of smoke and loud report,
and a bird came rustling down through the twigs and boughs.
"A fact--not a ruse, sir," said Leather bitterly, as he handed back the
gun.
"I beg your pardon," said the boy excitedly; and the man looked at him
in wonder.
"People do not beg pardon of convicts," he said very shortly; and,
bending down over the spot where the bird had fallen, he carefully
parted the low growth into which the specimen had dived head first, and
then, taking the beautifully coloured little creature by the hooked
beak, he tenderly drew it out with the feathers falling back into their
places, and hardly showing a mark.
"That is about as perfect as one can be, I think, sir," said Leather
quietly.
"Lovely!" cried Nic enthusiastically. "How am I to get it home safely?"
"Take hold of it by the beak, sir, a moment," replied Leather; and,
being relieved of the bird, he looked round till his eyes lit upon a
peculiar-looking grass, one of the waving strands of which he picked,
drew through his hand, and then passed it through the bird's nostrils,
twisted the ends together lightly, and handed the loop to Nic.
"That grass is nearly as tough as wire, sir," he said. "Carry it by
that, letting it swing. Are you going to collect bird-skins, sir?"
"I'm going to try, Leather. I shall want to get a good white cockatoo,"
said Nic, eagerly plunging into the subject, so as to try and make up
for the suspicion he had displayed.
"Oh yes, sir," said the man, who now showed not the slightest
resentment. "There will be plenty of work for you in that way. You can
get the sulphur crests, and those with orange crests, and the
rose-coloured, and the pretty grey creamy-yellowish-cheeked birds which
have the cockatoo's crest and the long tail of the paroquet."
"I don't know of these," said Nic eagerly.
"The country swarms with beautiful birds, sir, especially with those of
the parrot tribe. There is the black cockatoo, for instance--not that
you'll care for it."
"Why?" said Nic.
"Because it is ugly," said Leather, smiling, as if he enjoyed the boy's
enthusiasm. "It is wanting in bright feathers, but it is a curious
bird, with a tremendously strong beak."
"I must have a specimen, though," said Nic. "What others are there?"
"I can hardly tell you, sir. The parrots are in great variety. Stop:
there are two grass parrots that I know of. One is a green bird striped
all over across with a darker green, like the breast of a cuckoo or a
hawk, and it has fairly long legs, which enable it to go about actively
on the ground. Other parrots have, as you know, very short legs, only
suitable for clinging and climbing in the trees."
"And the other--grass parrot you called it?"
"A lovely little creature, cross-barred like the ground parrot; but its
colours are brilliant, and it is one of the most graceful-looking little
birds of the kind."
"Why, Leather," cried Nic, "you are quite a naturalist! How do you know
all this?"
"How could I help knowing, sir--spending days and weeks and months
alone, out here in this great wild country, watching sheep or helping to
hunt our stray cattle? What should I have done in a solitary bit of a
hut without speaking to a fellow-creature perhaps for a month?"
"But you have not been like this?"
"Not since I have been at the Bluff, sir. When I came up the country to
be Mr Dillon's servant I was almost constantly alone. They used to
send me my rations now and then. It was a very solitary life."
"How lonely!"
"Yes, sir--lonely," said the man, with a tinge of bitterness in his
tones; "but it had its advantages. There was no Brookes."
Nic started and looked keenly in the man's face; but he frowned and
turned hastily away, as if angry at what he had said.
"I must be getting back to the sheep, sir," he said hurriedly. "They
are terribly weak, foolish things, always catching some disease. I hope
you will get your bird home safely, sir. I should skin it directly.
Things so soon go bad out in this hot place."
He turned away in among the trees; and Nic walked off with his gun over
his shoulder, very thoughtful as he picked his way in and out among the
bushes, till, feeling hot, he rested his gun against a bough, and sat
down in the shade of one of the thick-foliaged, huge-trunked trees which
seemed an exception to the rest--so many being thin-leaved and casting
very little shade.
He had laid his specimen carefully down upon the grass, and was gazing
at it without seeing any of its beauties, when a sudden thought struck
him, and he sprang up to carefully reload his gun and place it before
him.
"Mustn't forget that," he muttered. "Never know what may happen."
He sat down again in the pleasant shade to inspect his trophy; but once
more he did not see it, for the convict's face filled his mind's eye,
that lowering, sun-browned, fierce countenance which lit up at times
with a smile that was sad and full of pain, and at others was so bright
that the deep lines in the man's face faded, and he became attractive.
"It's queer," said Nic to himself. "One minute you regularly hate the
fellow, and feel half afraid of him; the next you quite like and feel as
if it would be nice to know more about him. No, it wouldn't: he's a
convict, and they warned me about him."
Nic became very thoughtful, and though his lovely Blue Mountain parrot,
the object of his morning's walk, was close to his side, he did not
glance at it, and the beautiful birds the convict had mentioned were for
the time forgotten. For he found himself wondering what Leather had
done, and why he had done it; whether he was a very bad man; and
gradually found his head getting into quite a muddle of conflicting
surmises.
"I wish I hadn't let him think I was suspicious," he said to himself.
"He jumped at it directly. I suppose I showed it pretty plainly. But
no wonder! Any one would have felt as I did. To hand over one's gun to
a convict, and give him a chance to point it at you and say, `Now then,
hand over that powder flask and that belt and all your wads.' Of
course, so that he could go off--bush-ranging, don't they call it? Why,
it seemed a mad thing to do.
"And yet I did it," said Nic to himself, after a thoughtful pause; "and
he didn't run off. Why, he acted just as a gentleman would under the
circumstances. I did feel sorry for him. There, I don't care: he can't
be such a bad fellow as old Brookes wants to make out. Brookes is an
old beast! I'd tell him so for two pins."
Nic's thoughts were flowing very freely, and feeling quite excited he
went on:
"He must have done something very bad, and he has been severely
punished; then they let him come out from the gang to be an assigned
servant, and he's trying hard to make up for the past, and when he gets
bullied and ill-used it makes him look savage and fierce, of course.
"Well," said Nic, after a thoughtful pause, "I can keep him in his place
and yet be civil to him. I'm not going to jump on a man because he has
done wrong; and I don't see why he shouldn't be forgiven--if he deserves
it, of course, and--somehow, though I don't like him, I seem to like him
a good deal, and that's about as big a puzzle as some of the things in
mathematics, and--" This next was aloud:
"Oh, murder! Needles and pins! Wasps and hornets! Oh!"
Nic had jumped up, to begin dancing about, slapping his legs, shaking
his trousers, pulling off his shoes, and trying hard to get rid of
something that was giving him intense pain.
"It's those bees!" he cried. "They've got up the legs of my trousers;
and he said they had no stings. No! ants!--You nasty, miserable,
abominable little wretches--no, big wretches," he muttered, as he picked
off and crushed one by one the virulent creatures, which had made a
lodgment upon his legs and evidently come to the conclusion that they
were good to eat.
He soon freed himself; but the tingling, poisonous nature of their bites
was still very evident, and excited an intense desire to rub and
scratch.
"Why, there's quite a regiment of the little vicious wretches!" cried
the boy as he was going back to where his gun stood by the tree. "I
suppose they smelt me."
It seemed so for the moment, for a long line of the ants could be traced
through the grass on and on; and then Nic uttered an exclamation, sprang
forward and caught up his specimen, to hold it at arm's length and begin
shaking it.
"Why, it's covered with them," he cried, as he swept them off, got them
on his hands, saw them racing up his arms, and found them so quick and
so tight-clinging that the task grew painful in the extreme before he
could get rid of them, and when he did he tossed the rumpled, disfigured
bird back amongst his enemies.
"There!" he cried: "eat it then. It's completely spoiled. What a pity
I did not let it live!"
"Never mind, Nic," said his father that evening, as he sat at home,
giving himself from time to time a vicious rub. "Take it as a lesson.
We all have to go through that sort of thing, and you'll know better
next time. But it was a fine specimen, you say?"
"Lovely," replied Nic eagerly; but he did not say a word about who shot
the bird, for he felt that if he did his father would be annoyed.