MY SELECTION.
Bright and early I was out, and had a plunge in the beautiful clear
creek running nearby. Let me say here that the permanent clear sandy
creeks are one of the chief attractions of the Tableland. Practically
every selection has one. Most have two or three.
I got back to the pub in time to greet Raynor. Someone in the train the
previous day had told him about me, and he had ridden in early to see
me. He was a tall, dark, stoutish man, good humour writ large over his
rather weather-beaten face. He was clean shaved, save for a scrubbing
brush under the nose, and was somewhat untidily dressed in the
prevailing style of grey flannel and dungarees. He gave me a good firm
hand grip (I loathe your bloke who tenders you a limp lump of dough).
"Cheero, bloke," says he; "I b'lieve you're goin' to settle out 'ere?"
His voice was very high-pitched, and he spoke with a drawl.
"Yes," I said. "That's if I can get a block."
"You'll have no difficulty," he answered. "There's whips o' blocks out
back o' my place, and y' oughter find one to suit."
"How about 48?" I asked. This was one I had picked on, when poring over
the multitudinous plans and descriptions I got in Brisbane.
"It's a goodey," he said. "I reckon about the best one left for soil and
handiness, but there ain't no mill timber on it."
"Oh, blow the timber! I want a block of land."
"That's the sort," he replied. "Well, look. I can't go out with you
to-day, but you go right out to Liston's place. Ye can't miss the way;
just foller the wheel tracks. Y'oughter get there by one o'clock, and
you'll find a bloke there called Terry O'Gorman. He'll put you right.
His block's next 48."
"Good-oh; thanks," I answered. "Comin' in to breakfast?" (as the bell
went).
We went in, and during the meal he gave me a lot of information about
the district and my future neighbours. He gave me the impression of
being a quiet, shrewd, straight sort of a fellow.
Breakfast over, Raynor bade me a cheery good-bye, and I prepared for the
tramp. New dungaree pants, new thunder and lightning striped cotton
shirt, new tan leggings, sparkling new billy in one hand, and a shot-gun
in the other--in case I saw anything to shoot en route--and a black hard
felt hat! Verily a Verdant Green among new chums.
The folks at the pub all came out on the verandah to see me off. I
thought, English fashion, they were good simple people, and kind to give
me a send off. Oh, Lord! _I_ was the simpleton, and they were enjoying
the joke. By the way, a week's sojourn here thoroughly eliminated that
"superiah" feeling--much to my benefit. In this new life the people were
all _my_ superiors, and I mighty soon recognised it.
Off I set. The track led through open forest, skirting the scrub, and if
there was ever a better imitation of a switchback, I want to know! Up
and down, up and down, mile after mile, until I, unused to such toil,
was nearly worn out. However, I came at last to a clear "pocket," where
the road branched. "Ha!" I thought, "Raynor said it was only a mile and
a half from here," and, turning to the right, entered the scrub. The
track was only about sixteen feet wide, cut nearly straight. On either
hand the impenetrable jungle of prickly undergrowth and close-packed
huge trees towering a hundred feet or more overhead, shutting out the
sunlight. It was beautifully cool, but the road, dry hitherto, was now
very muddy, and I trudged on ankle deep, three steps forward and one
back. Half an hour of this, then suddenly, like a door opening, I was
out of the scrub, with a big grassed clearing either side of the road,
and several little houses in sight. The second was Liston's, and I
reached it in a few minutes. A rosy-cheeked woman, with several fine
sturdy youngsters standing shyly behind her, greeted me.
"You'll be Mr. Senex? My name's Liston. Mr. O'Gorman'll be here in a
minute. He's just up the paddock with Dad. Come in; I'm sure you're
dyin' for a drink o' tea."
I just was. I think that tea and home-made bread and butter were the
sweetest things I ever tasted. The house was built of rough split
timber, adzed slab-floor, iron roof, with an open fireplace and big
"colonial" oven taking up all one end. Though so rough, it was
spotlessly clean, and woman's hand, with a little drapery, a few framed
prints and knick-knacks, had made it look comfortable and homely, as no
mere man ever could. While I was enjoying my tea I heard a snort
outside, and presently the house quivered perceptibly. I looked up in
some surprise.
"It's all right," laughed Mrs. Liston. "It's only ol' Biddy scratchin'
herself. Come here, Bid!"
I stared, thinking it queer that one lady should so openly speak of
another's little idiosyncrasy, until I saw a horned head appear in the
doorway, and I knew Biddy for the family's pet cow. The laughing
children swarmed over her, to show me how quiet she was, climbed on her
back, hung round her neck, gave her crusts, and so on, the cow taking it
all quietly, licking her nose with about a yard of raspy tongue, and
looking at the kids with a calm eye like a benevolent old grandmother.
Truly a domesticated animal!
Presently Dad and O'Gorman came home. Dad was a tall, thin, sinewy man,
with sandy hair and moustache, his tanned face making the blue eyes look
strangely piercing. Very Scotch and very quiet, and, like all pioneers
with wife and family dependent on their exertions, with many
worry-graven lines on his forehead. Behind him was a large merry, red
face, like a harvest moon, ornamented by a drooping yellow moustache and
a broad grin. Surely, I thought, this must be the home of good-tempered
men, and this O'Gorman is the happiest-looking bloke I've seen in years.
He was over six feet, strongly built, active, and, like Raynor, his
chum, had that sunny nature that nothing ever seems to put out. They
welcomed me warmly, and, after a little talk, told me it was too late to
go out to my fancy for a block that day, but I could stop there
over-night and go out next day. Meanwhile I could come up into the bush
and watch the men chop scrub. They had a bite, then took their axes, and
I went with them to where they were chopping. It had been brushed (i.e,
undergrowth chopped down), and didn't look too bad. I eagerly watched
them, fingers itching to get hold of an axe. It looked easy enough. One
or two trees came down, and I could contain myself no longer.
[Illustration: I went with them to where they were chopping.]
"Let me have a go, Mr. Liston."
"All right," he laughed. "Don't cut yourself though."
He stood by me while I bogged in. Half a dozen chops, and they started
laughing. The cut, instead of being smooth, like a wedge out of a
cheese, looked as if it had been chewed--all steps and stairs, top and
bottom. I got wild, chopped harder; the back of the axe hit the top of
the cut, and down she slithered, the point going through my boot, making
a painful cut. They were much concerned, till they saw it was nothing to
worry over.
"Never mind, old chap. We all had to learn. You'll have to start with a
light four-pound axe. You'll soon pick up the knack."
I said nothing, thinking of the seven and a quarter pound one the
storekeeper in Atherton had rung in on me. I spent the rest of the day
wandering round the paddock and cultivation patch. They had plenty of
vegetables growing with but little care, save keeping weeds down.
After tea we sat round the fire yarning, I giving some of my experiences
and telling them of foreign countries I had visited. The kids listened
wide-eyed to one who had actually been past Townsville, until the mother
packed them off to bed. The night was spent comfortably enough in a bit
of an outhouse, though I was disturbed several times by the infernal
Biddy, who mistook my blanket for a new kind of fodder.
In the morning the kids roused me out early, and I went with the ragged,
happy, laughing crowd to see Biddy and her mates milked. This looked
easy, too, so of course I, eagerly thirsting for experience, had to try
it. I couldn't get a drop, and presently Bid expressed her disapproval
by putting her hoof into the bucket. After that I left matters to the
juvenile experts.
What struck me most about the people up here is their fine independence.
They don't make a calling stranger uncomfortable by apologies for their
place, ostentatious dusting of seats, etc. You are welcome, as a matter
of course, to pot-luck or the inevitable tea and cake, and if you don't
like it you can go--courteously enough--to the devil; with no more fuss
made over the Governor-General than over a passing swaggie. Eager to
offer and loath to accept help of any kind; treating mishaps and
heart-breaking set-backs with a sort of humorous growling, having a
sturdy determination at the back of it to make a do of things. A quiet
people, without any of the facilities townsfolk consider essential,
doing some of Australia's best work in their quiet way, for a return,
during the first few years, that a "wage-slave" would laugh at.
O'Gorman took me out after breakfast, and we quickly entered a "pad"
through the dense scrub. Oh, that journey! Steady heavy rain had set in;
every blooming thing in the scrub seemed to have prickles on it, or else
a sting, and I soon got scratched to pieces. Dodging a swinging
lawyer-vine tendril, I ran my face on a stinging tree and was in agony
all day. About an hour after this we debouched on to a twelve-foot wide
muddy track.
"This is your main road," said O'Gorman.
I said, "Oh! Is it?" took a step forward, and instantly went over my
knees in the mud. I struggled out, leaving a boot embalmed two feet deep
in the process. I cut up a sugar-bag and tied this round my foot. We
proceeded along the track, painfully crawling along the edges, since it
was impossible to negotiate the river of mud that was "my" road. Deeper
and deeper into the heart of the bush we went, the solemn green
stillness unbroken save for a few musical bird calls. Muddier and
muddier became the track, and lower and lower my heart until I was
nearly in danger of treading on it. Finally, panting and exhausted, we
reached a big clearing, almost completely overgrown with sarsaparilla
bush, inkweed and wild raspberry.
"Ah! Here we are," said my guide. "This is Braun's--next yours."
Again I ejaculated, "Oh! Is it?"
We followed a pad through the weeds until we came to a dilapidated,
mildewy slab hut. We entered, and were met by a dank, musty smell, like
a vault, hinting at long absence of human inhabitants. Lizards and
spiders flitted here and there on the walls; a black snake shot across
the floor and dived through a hole; in the fireplace a rusty billy or
two and the grey ashes of a fire dead these three years. The rain beat
steadily on the roof, leaking through here and there with a dismal
"plop," and a chill breeze breathed through the numerous chinks between
the slabs. It was the apotheosis of misery.
"Mr. O'Gorman," I bleated, "did anyone ever really _live_ here?"
"Of course," he answered. "I did; camped here wi' Braun six months. And,
look, my name's Terry. Blow yer 'mister.'"
I laughed in spite of myself. "Righto, Terry. Well, let's go and view my
estate."
We went down a chain or two further, and hit a fine, clear, rushing
creek. On the other bank a dense jungle came down to the water, the edge
a tangled mass of lawyer-vines climbing half-way up the trees. Terry
halted and, with a wave of his hand, invited my attention to that
serried bulwark of thorns, prickles and stinging abominations.
"There's your place, Charlie."
My heart was too full. "B-but what am I to do with it?" I wailed.
Here was a fine end to my dreams of fortune-growing spuds!
"Do with it!" he laughed. "Why! Get a brush-hook and axe, and a good
load o' tucker, and bog in like a man. I'll give y' a week to give ye a
fair start."
I turned away. Never shall I forget the helpless feeling of sickening
disillusionment.
"For God's sake, Terry, let's get back," I said. And we went.
We said little on the return journey, reaching Liston's at dusk. I felt
a bit better after tea. Next day was fine and bright. Terry was going to
his place (across "mine" and the furthest out), and I went along. My
spirits were better to-day, improving, like the landscape, in the
sunlight. We had a rare feast of big ripe passion fruit growing wild on
the creek, then crossed and examined the soil--good red stuff mostly.
Wandered round a bit, Terry calling my attention to the good water
supply, and got a glimpse of some tall, ghostly Kauri pine; I felt some
of my former enthusiasm revive. I turned suddenly to Terry.
"Begob, old man, I'll take it, and chance the ducks," I said.
"Good enough!" he answered, slapping my back. "You won't be sorry, and
neither will I, for I'll get a neighbour at last."
Back we went in the afternoon, after measuring off some of his scrub,
and I went right into the pub to be on time for the Cairns train in the
morning.