SELWYN HEARS SOME NEWS
The sun climbing round the base of Conical Hill at daybreak next
morning, found Selwyn already abroad, and in the very best of humours.
The gentle trickle of last night's nightcap down his gullet had warmed
the very cockles of his heart, so he told a mud-lark discussing an
early worm among the saplings. He was outside before the day was
properly alight, standing on the front verandah, hands deep in pockets,
legs set apart, sniffing the remnants of a night breeze, which had
not yet fled the sun's wooing. Finding his spirits insisted upon more
active affairs and discovering no prospect of breakfast for a while, he
picked up his stick, which he only exchanged for gun or fishing-rod,
and took a turn round the back premises, where there might be matters
to occupy a fellow until people thought fit to give up slugging in bed.
Rheumy-eyed Scabbyback, rising morosely from a sack, was prodded good
morning, and Gripper was accorded even more gracious welcome, being
unchained and allowed to follow on the march of discovery.
Selwyn called out good morning to old Neville, as he passed towards the
mine on early business, and presently seduced into talk Mrs. Nankervis
as she bustled in and out of the back door on the work of breakfast.
He presided at a difference of opinion between Gripper and a blue
billygoat with the beard of the Prophet, which ruled the tattered herds
of Surprise. He had just come to an end of everything, including his
good humour, when news arrived that breakfast waited.
Mrs. Selwyn and Maud were already in the dining-room. Hands came out of
his pockets. "By Jove!" he said. "Good morning. Here you are at last.
It is wonderful how people like to loaf in bed."
"It is the only morning you have been down first for a week," Mrs.
Selwyn answered sharply.
"What about 'a man's work may be early begun; but a woman's work is
never done,' Mr. Selwyn?" Maud said.
Selwyn changed the conversation. He put on his most genial smile.
"Your father out again to-day? I suppose he won't be back yet? Am I to
preside again, Miss Neville?"
"If you won't mind. Shall we sit down?"
Maud took her place at one end of the table and poured out tea. Selwyn,
with a good deal of noise, pulled up a chair at the other end and
began to lift dish covers. Mrs. Selwyn found her seat half-way down
and prepared to be as gracious as possible, in spite of feeling most
unequal to the task. What she endured daily at this ghastly place,
nobody could possibly comprehend. And she had foreseen it all so
clearly with that capable brain of hers! Never again should Hilton
overrule her.
A first inspection of dishes revealed, besides a noble ham, procured
from the coast in honour of visitors, eggs, a wallaby stew, and
lastly--red, rich, and done absolutely to the last turn--a thick piece
of rump steak, beyond any doubt the best bit Selwyn had ever seen since
leaving the South. Quietly the cover went down upon that dish.
"Now, who will have wallaby stew?" said the master of ceremonies, with
the charm of manner which beguiled so easily the uninitiated. "You will
have some, of course, dear?"
"I shall have nothing of the sort. I shall have an egg."
"Very well, dear; but you are making a mistake. Miss Neville, you will
have some, of course."
"Don't pester the wretched girl with it every morning."
"Of course she would like it," came irritably from the president.
"Wallaby is a great luxury. You ought to be very glad I am able to get
it for you. This is the only place I have heard of where they want to
throw it on the midden."
Selwyn began to heap a plate.
"If I must have it, Mr. Selwyn, not so much, please," Maud said.
"I don't know why you pester everyone to eat your things," said Mrs.
Selwyn, continuing the attack.
"I hate seeing everything I shoot wasted," Selwyn replied, testily.
"Then let the dogs have it."
"No. I like seeing friends enjoy it."
"Then eat it yourself."
"I can't. It doesn't agree with me in the morning."
Maud made peace by accepting the dish. Mrs. Selwyn cracked an egg.
Then--then only--Selwyn uncovered the rump steak.
"By Jove!" he said. "I'm sorry. There was steak here had anyone wanted
it. I am afraid I'm rather late for you now."
He put the fork gently and deeply into the juicy square of meat, and
lifted it bodily on to his plate--regretfully, as though only good
manners persuaded him to choose the untasted dish. Next, collecting
round him the necessaries for an ample breakfast, he settled to his
task.
Breakfast over, Selwyn decided on a stroll. It was too late in the
day for a shot, and he could take a turn with a gun in the evening.
A stroll was better than hanging about a house trying to amuse two
women. He visited the back again and loosed his bodyguard. The mangy
pointer in its dotage sprang heavily upon him in joyous good morning,
and tested the weight of his stick. Gripper led the van. The momentary
irritation of breakfast had gone, and Selwyn felt benign with all the
world.
Pipe in mouth, stick in hand, he took the red road which turns
left-handed from the office door. Mrs. Boulder relinquished household
matters to watch him go by. The sun was rising in the sky, and when
he drew opposite the Horrington humpy, he began to tell himself that
a man was looking for trouble who went for walks in this country. Mr.
Horrington stood in his doorway, gently musing after his morning custom
before setting forth to win the daily bread; and Selwyn, from the
roadway, sent him a cheerful salute, which brought him along the path
to the road.
"Good day, Mr. Selwyn. You are abroad early this morning. Which way are
you going?"
"Nowhere in particular. I was out for a stroll."
"Will you come along with me? I seldom get anyone to talk to. I have
some business in the township."
"Splendid!" cried Selwyn.
Up the road they went at steady pace, Selwyn carrying his fifty years
on springy steps, Mr. Horrington planting his feet ponderously in the
dust. Mr. Horrington pulled out his pipe in a little while, and found
to his chagrin his tobacco-pouch was empty.
"Damn it! I find I have run out of fuel until I can manage to get back
to the store," he said, blinking his pale blue eyes. "Would you mind
lending me a fill? Thanks. Ah, this is something like tobacco. The
stuff they sell here comes hard on an educated palate."
"Fill your pouch up. I have plenty at home."
"Thanks very much. I am always meaning to send for some decent stuff.
Yes, thanks very much. I shall look forward to a luxurious evening.
Here you are. I am afraid I have rather taken you at your word."
"Not at all," answered Selwyn with downcast countenance.
Just before the firewood stacks, they took the branch road turning
to the township. The nearing hotel roof glared in the sun. Selwyn,
foreseeing the inevitable, put a cautious hand into his pocket
for what discovery might discover. The nimble half-crown rewarded
his search. Several malignant goats cropped the pasturage at the
cross-roads. Mr. Horrington eyed them sullenly.
"Who owns all these goats?" said Selwyn, put in better spirits by the
find.
Horrington blinked his eyes. "That is what nobody knows. They walk
round a man's house, and break the way inside if there's a crust on the
place; or get tangled in the dustbin just as a man is falling asleep.
You can stand all day shouting for an owner, and not a soul on the
lease turns an ear. But if you go mad and shoot one, every man and
woman in the camp comes running up to claim it."
"You don't care for goats?" said Selwyn.
Mr. Horrington put the back of a hand across his drooping moustache.
"They are charming animals for little girls to fondle in books; but
you have to live with them to know them. Were I a well-to-do man I
would keep two or three, and wander down of an evening to the paddock
to sprinkle a little bread over them. But when you must wrestle a goat
round a bail before you can have breakfast, the glamour wears. By gad!
a man soon gets hot walking these mornings. Ah, here's the hotel. I
hope you will take the dust out of your throat with me. It will help
square our tobacco account." Mr. Horrington laughed a rusty laugh.
They passed through the open doorway of the hotel, turned right-handed,
and went into the bar. It was cool indoors after the sun. The room was
large and low, and full of the breaths of departed roysterers; and was
empty except for a battered barmaid in curl papers who dusted behind
the counter. Upon the floor were many signs of yesterday. Selwyn felt
poorly inclined for refreshment. Mr. Horrington took off his hat and
wiped his brow, bowing good morning to the barmaid, who smiled bitterly
and came forward. He laid his stick along the counter, and leaning an
elbow beside it, fell into a noble pose, the outcome of a lifetime's
practice.
"What's it to be, Mr. Selwyn?"
"Anything, thanks; a whisky," said Selwyn, coming forward and smiling a
charming good morning.
"That will do for me," Mr. Horrington agreed. "Two whiskys, please."
Mr. Horrington plunged a hand into his right trouser pocket. Afterwards
he plunged a hand into his left pocket. Once more he tried the right
pocket. He blinked his eyes. He took up the whisky bottle and poured
himself out a stiff peg. He shook his head at a suggestion of
dilution. He sipped the peg to taste its quality. He seemed about to
add a little more, had not the barmaid put the bottle from harm's way.
He watched paternally the pouring out of Selwyn's nobbler, and when it
was set down ready, he said pleasantly:--
"I am afraid I have left every penny of loose cash behind. Wretched
nuisance! Never remember doing that kind of thing before. I hope you
won't object to settling this little matter now, and we can fix up
between ourselves another day." Leaning over, he added in a heavy
whisper: "They are not too agreeable here--don't care to run accounts."
Selwyn had met his master. He saw it; he was a wise man; then and there
he surrendered.
"Of course," he said, and brought forth the half-crown. "We are up
against it this morning. This is all I happen to have with me."
He put the half-crown on the counter, and Mr. Horrington blinked
suspiciously at him.
The out-of-curl barmaid went away in a little while, and Mr. Horrington
suggested lighting pipes and sitting down a few minutes on the
seat running along the wall. Selwyn, hopeless of escape just then,
acquiesced. They crossed the floor and sat down.
"Have you a match?" said Mr. Horrington as a start in matters. Selwyn
obediently handed over the box. "Business is very slack this year,
very. I find time hang heavily sometimes. Practically never a man of
culture to speak to. I often mean to get up one or two decent books
from down South."
"Sorry haven't got one with me," said Selwyn, counting the flies on the
ceiling.
"Yes," went on Mr. Horrington, shaking his head. "I have to hang round
this wretched rattletrap township all day. Fellows turn up any time
from the bush with skins to sell, or samples of ore. It wouldn't do
to be away. A man might lose custom. But it is sickening for a man of
culture listening to their petty squabbles and affairs. By the way,
that reminds me, I heard a fair shocker the other day; a fair shocker
I can tell you. No need to say this is strictly between you and me. Of
course you knew Neville's girl was engaged to the Power who owns this
station?"
"Met him several times."
"No doubt. Not a bad chap you would think," said Mr. Horrington. "Well,
it is all over the place now he is running a double affair."
"Eh?"
"Yes. They say the other girl is somewhere on the river. A girl with
striking looks. No doubt that's the attraction, though I have never
seen any looks in these parts."
"What!" said Selwyn, this time coming down from the flies and scowling.
"Yes, pretty sickening thing to hear. I am very sorry for Neville's
girl. Charming girl. There seems no doubt about it. I've had it from
half-a-dozen sources since. Moreover the girl's father was here a day
or two back. Drinking pretty freely. I happened to be there, and he
said a good deal more than I liked listening to. He mentioned other
names; but it's as well to let them be. Nasty story. Yes, nasty story."
"Man, it can't be true." Selwyn exclaimed at last.
"'Fraid so."
"Damn it, how beastly!"
"Yes. Fair shocker."
They talked together in the stale room for some time until Selwyn grown
desperate, rose firmly to his feet. "Well, must be getting back. Have
a bit of business to do. Enjoyed our chat. Suppose we shall run across
each other again pretty soon."
Selwyn continued to move firmly towards the door. Mr. Horrington rose
also. He blinked. He swept the edge of his drooping moustache with his
tongue lest a spare drop of whisky remained. He looked longingly but
unprofitably at the row of bottles on the shelves. Lastly he picked up
his stick as Selwyn had picked up his. They went outside into the sun.
Scabbyback and Gripper rose from a small island of shade, and Gripper
trotted forward very ready for the start. At the hotel entrance they
said good-bye. They said it soon--Selwyn lifting his stick jauntily in
the air, and Mr. Horrington blinking reply.
Good-natured kindly fool that he was, he was thoroughly upset by that
infernal old sponger's scandal. Just his luck to be told a darned
awkward piece of news just after breakfast, so that he was likely to
be annoyed with it all day. He was too thundering good-natured, that's
what he was. He must adopt another line in future. Why the deuce should
he worry over people's affairs? What the devil was a fellow to do in
such infernally awkward circumstances--keep his mouth shut? Perhaps he
ought to tell his wife. She might as well know, in case anything ever
came of it. What's more he could shift the business on to her that way.
It was a woman's job. They were pretty thick-skinned in that kind of
thing. They'd be certain to try and drag him into it; but he'd be jolly
careful they didn't. Yes, he was too darned considerate of others.
He reached home as he was growing unpleasantly hot. Spying Mrs. Selwyn
reading on the shadiest verandah, he made for her and threw himself
into a canvas chair close by. The bodyguard flopped upon the floor at
his feet, and the party fell to heaving up and down. The sudden assault
caused Mrs. Selwyn to look over the edge of her book.
"Hilton, how soon are you going to learn a little consideration for
others?" she said sharply. "No single other man I could name would
throw himself and two smelling dogs down in the one spot we are trying
to keep cool."
Selwyn, tumbled pell-mell from high thoughts, turned very sour.
"It seems a little hard that a fellow mayn't crawl into the shade for
a minute or two. I am the only one here with sufficient spirit to take
a decent walk of a morning. The rest of you gasp about in easy chairs
expecting to be waited on."
Mrs. Selwyn made no reply and resumed her reading. Selwyn and his
retainers gave a little time to the recovery of their breaths. Finally
Selwyn braced himself to his task.
"I met that old humbug Horrington on the road. He gave me a pretty
beastly bit of news." Mrs. Selwyn again looked over the top of her
book. "He told me Jim Power is running a double affair, and is tied up
in a knot with a girl somewhere on the river. A good-looking girl, old
Horrington said. Probably the girl they joke King about. He says it's
all over the place." Mrs. Selwyn shut up her book and laid it in her
lap. Next she looked severely at the flooring of the verandah. "Beastly
nuisance!" Selwyn followed up again feebly.
"Was he quite certain of his story?"
"Seemed infernally sure of it."
Mrs. Selwyn resumed the study of the flooring. After a moment or two
she said--"I feel most unwell. I think at least you might have had the
decency to keep it from me."
"Damn it, I thought you would be put out if you weren't told. Besides
you are a woman. I thought you would have a suggestion to mend matters."
"I shouldn't for one moment think of interfering. It is essentially a
matter between Mr. Neville and yourself."
"Neville? Damn it, don't you try and drag me into it."
"I entreat you to moderate your violence a little."
Selwyn said something under his breath. He was getting ruffled, and
don't you make any mistake about it. It was the old story. He was too
darned infernally good-natured. Too beastly unselfish. He had lived too
long letting people thrust their blasted wishes down his timid throat.
But he'd start a new tack from to-day. By Jove! yes, a new tack from
to-day.
While he lashed himself into noble rage, Mrs. Selwyn continued to
admonish. "It is exactly what I expected. The course is perfectly
clear, and you come running to me. And as usual you try and shift the
matter on to me with high hand and bluster."
Selwyn had flogged himself to white heat. "Here am I, a supposed big
man of these parts, nagged at and brow-beaten and driven to the point
of madness by a houseful of idle matchmaking women."
"I entreat you----" began Mrs. Selwyn.
"They can carry their own dirty linen to the wash themselves. I've been
the public pack-animal for the last time, and I tell you so now. The
girl can get herself out of her own tangle."
"Do you realise the whole camp may be listening?"
"Damn the camp!"
"You ruffian."
Selwyn threw himself to his feet. "It's the last good turn I try and
do. Power can keep a harem for what I care. I suppose you are content
now you have driven me away?"
Mrs. Selwyn made no reply, but resumed her reading. Scowling
terrifically, Selwyn plunged down the verandah steps, the bodyguard
pattering at his heels. There were the sounds of steps, very sharp and
dignified, dying away down the path, followed by silence. Mrs. Selwyn
closed her book and proceeded to consider matters in all their aspects.