A THUNDERSTORM
The Bush hath moods and changes, as the seasons rise and fall,
And the men who love the Bushland--they are loyal thro' it all.
A. B. PATERSON.
"The day after to-morrow is the date of the men's dance," Mr. Linton
said. "Norah mustn't go in for any wild exertion on that day, as she'll
probably want to dance several hundred miles at night. So if you boys
want to plan anything, you had better make your arrangements for
to-morrow."
"I don't know that I've energy enough to plan anything," said Jim,
lazily. He was lying full length on the lawn, his head on Norah. Wally
was close by, and Cecil and Mr. Linton occupied basket chairs. Peace
would have reigned supreme had not the mosquitoes kept every one busy.
"Any wishes, Cecil?"
"None whatever," said Cecil. "There are no people to go and see, I
think you said, Uncle David?"
"No one that would interest you," Mr. Linton said; and Wally and Jim,
who had groaned internally with fear of being taken "calling," felt
their spirits return.
"My brain's not equal to planning, as I remarked," Jim said. "But if I
go anywhere, I'd like to do so on a horse. I want to feel a horse under
me again."
"Hear, hear," from Wally, softly.
"Well, I can't go out to-morrow," said the squatter. "I've letters to
see to, and Anderson may be out; so you must look after
yourselves--which I believe you to be entirely capable of doing. Norah,
haven't you any ideas?"
"Loads," said Norah, promptly, "but they're all connected with
mosquitoes!" She aimed a vicious blow into space as she spoke, and
sighed, before rubbing the bite. "Well, suppose we ride out and boil
the billy somewhere along the river? Cecil, would you care for that?"
"Very much," said Cecil, in the tones that always gave the impression
that he despised the particular subject under discussion. Norah had
quite withdrawn the opinion formed in the first five minutes of their
acquaintance, that he was ill mannered--now she bewailed the fact that
he was so uniformly and painfully polite.
"Well, if you would--" she said, hesitatingly. "What do you boys think?"
"Grand idea," responded Wally. Norah loved Wally's way; he was always
so pleased and interested over any plan that might be formed. Jim was
wont to remark that if you arranged to clean out a pigsty, Wally would
probably regard it as a gigantic picnic, and enjoy his day hugely. She
smiled at him gratefully in the darkness.
"You too, Jim?"
"Rather--anything you like," said her brother. "What horse can I have,
Dad?"
Jim had no special horse of his own. His two ponies, Sirdar and Mick,
he had outgrown, although they were still up to anything of a lighter
weight--the former only inferior to Norah's beloved Bobs. His absences
from home were so long that it had not seemed worth while to procure
him a special horse, and for several holidays he had been accustomed to
ride any of the station mounts. Privately, Jim was not altogether
satisfied with the arrangement, although quite admitting its common
sense. Now that he had left school he intended to ask his father if he
could buy a horse.
"You can try my new purchase, Monarch, if you like," Mr. Linton
answered. "He's quite a decent mover--I think you'll like him."
Cecil bit his lip, under cover of the darkness. He coveted a ride on
both Bobs and Monarch, and had given hints on the subject, but neither
had been taken. Now Jim, nearly three years his junior, was lent
Monarch without even having asked for him; while he was still, he
presumed, to ride the steady-going Brown Betty, whom he thoroughly
despised, in spite of the fact that she had once got rid of him. He
registered another notch in his general grudge against Billabong.
Mr. Linton was absolutely ignorant of what passed in his nephew's mind.
To give the city boy, with his uncertain seat and heavy hands, anything
but a steady horse, never occurred to him; he would have regarded it as
little short of inviting disaster to put him on Monarch, thoroughbred
and newly broken in as he was; and, of course, no one but Norah ever
rode Bobs.
"That's all right," he said, as Jim expressed his pleasure. "And what
about you, Wally? You're too long now for Mick, I think."
"Oh, anything you like, sir," said Wally, easily. "I haven't met any
bad 'uns on Billabong. Warder, or Brown Betty, or Nan--have you got them
all still?"
"They're all here," the squatter said. "Cecil generally rides Betty,
and I believe Burton's using old Warder just now. But you can have Nan,
if you like."
"Thanks very much," said Wally. "I'll take the shine out of you, young
Norah!"
"I'd like to see you," returned Norah. Monarch might beat Bobs or yes,
perhaps one other horse she knew of, in a small tree-grown paddock; at
the thought of which she smiled happily to herself. But no other horse
on Billabong could see the way Bobs went when he was in earnest.
"Well, that's all settled," Mr. Linton said. "I hope you'll have a good
day--you're bound to have it hot, so I should advise you to get an early
start. If you go as far as the Swamp Paddock, Norah, you might ride
round the cattle there, and see if they're settling down--I put the new
bullocks there, you know."
"All right, Dad, we'll do it. I like having an object for a ride."
"Same here," said Jim sleepily. "Picnics are asinine things!"
"I don't believe you know much about anything--you're three parts
asleep!" said Wally, flinging a cushion at his chum, which Jim caught
thankfully, and, remarking that Norah was uncommonly scraggy, adjusted
under his head. The result was a vigorous upheaval by the indignant
Norah, who declined to be a head-rest for such ingratitude any longer.
At this point Mr. Linton discovered that it was time for supper; and
the boys, tired after their long journey, were not long in saying
goodnight.
Jim came up with Norah, and switched on her light. His eye travelled
round the pretty room.
"I don't know what part of home's HOMIEST," he said--"but I always
reckon your room runs pretty near it! Blest if I know what it will be
like when you're not here, little chap."
Norah rubbed her face against his coat sleeve.
"We don't talk of it," she said. "If we did, I'd--I'd be a horrid
coward, Jimmy--boy, and you wouldn't like me a bit!"
"Wouldn't I?" Jim said. "Well, I can't imagine you a coward, anyhow."
He bent and kissed her. "Good-night, old kiddie."
They set out in good time next morning, for the sun gave promise of a
scorching day.
Billy had the horses ready under the shade of a huge pepper-tree; even
there the flies were bad enough to set Monarch and Bobs fretting with
irritation, while the two stock horses lashed unceasingly with their
tails and stamped in the dust. Nan was a long, handsome brown mare,
with two white feet--an old friend of Wally's, who came and patted her
and let her rub her worried head against his coat. Cecil mounted Betty
and looked on sourly, while Jim walked round Monarch and admired the
big black.
"He ought to carry you like a bird, Dad."
"He does; a bit green yet, but he'll mend of that," his father
answered. "Now, get away, all of you." He put Norah up and watched,
with a silent look of approval, the way Jim handled his impatient
steed, taking him quietly, as one treats a fractious baby, and mounting
gently. Then he stood under the tree to see them ride down the paddock,
valises containing necessaries for the "asinine picnic" strapped on Nan
and Betty's saddles. Norah, as the lady of the party, was exempt from
carrying burdens, and Monarch brooked no load but his rider.
They made good time across the shadeless paddocks, anxious for the
pleasanter conditions along the river bank, where a cattle track wound
in and out under the gum trees. It was one of Norah and Jim's favourite
rides; they never failed to take it when holidays brought the boy back
to Billabong. They pushed along it for some time, eventually finding
the slip rails, through which they got into the Swamp Paddock--so called
because of a wide marsh in one corner, where black duck and snipe used
to come freely. The new cattle had taken to the paddock like old hands.
Satisfied with their inspection, Norah and Jim led the way back to the
river, where presently they came to an ideal place to camp; a bend
thickly shaded, with the river bank shelving down to a sandy beach,
where it was easy to get good water.
Wally volunteered to boil the billy, which he accomplished after much
vigorous fanning with his hat at the fire. The job took some little
time, and if the tea was eventually brewed with water that had not
quite reached boiling point, that was a matter between Wally and his
conscience--certainly the other members of the party were far too
thirsty to be critical! Lunch was lazily discussed close to the water,
after which they lay about on the bank and talked of many things.
Nobody was inclined to move, for the heat, even at the river, was very
great; a still, thunderous day, on which no shade could keep out the
moist heat, that seemed, as Wally put it, "to get into your very bones
and make them lazy."
At length Jim rolled over.
"Well, I'm off for a bathe," he said. "Coming, Cecil?"
"Oh, yes," Cecil answered, a little doubtfully; while Wally jumped up
as a matter of course.
"Ugh!" groaned Norah. "Pigs! Why was I born a girl?"
"So's we could lay ourselves at your feet!" said Wally solemnly,
suiting the action to the word, and placing his forehead forcefully in
the dust before her.
"M'f!" Norah wrinkled her nose. "It's very nice of you, but I don't
quite see what use it would be. Anyhow, I'd far rather go bathing." She
huddled on the ground, and looked tragic. "Go--leave me!"
"Sorry, old girl," grinned Jim. "We won't be long."
"Be as long as you like," said the victim of circumstances, cheerfully.
"I'm going to sleep."
The three boys disappeared along the bank, finding, apparently, some
difficulty in discovering a suitable bathing place, for it was some
time before shouts and laughter from a good way off told Norah that
they were in the water. She sighed, looking ruefully at the river
flowing beneath her, and half decided to go in herself; but her father
did not care for her bathing in the open alone, and she gave up the
idea and shut her eyes so that she would not see temptation rippling
down below. Presently she fell asleep.
She did not know how long it was before she woke. Then she jumped up
with a start, thinking, for a moment, that it was dark. The sun had
disappeared behind a huge bank of deep-purple cloud that had crept up,
blotting out everything. It was breathlessly hot and quite still--not a
leaf stirred on a tree, and the birds were quiet.
"Whew!" said Norah. "We're going to have a storm--and a big one!"
She listened. From far up faint calls and laughter still met her ears.
It was evident that the boys were finding the water very much to their
taste.
"Duffers!" Norah ejaculated. "We'll have the loveliest soaking--and
Dad'll be anxious."
She coo-ee'd several times, but no response came. Finally she rose,
with a little wrinkle in her brow.
"I guess I'd better saddle up," she said.
The horses were tied up in a clump of trees not far off, the saddles
out of reach of their restless feet. Norah saddled Bobs first, and then
the two stock horses--which was easy. To get Monarch ready, however, was
not such a simple matter: the youngster was uneasy and sweating, and
would not keep still for a moment; to get the saddle on and adjust
breastplate and rings was a fairly stiff task with a sixteen-hands
horse and a groom of fourteen years, hampered by a divided riding
skirt. At length the last buckle went home, and Norah gave a relieved
sigh.
"Bother you, Monarch!" she said. "You've taken me an awful time. Come
on, Bobs."
Leaving the other horses tied up, she mounted and cantered down the
bank, calling again and again. An answer came sooner than she had
expected, and the three boys, somewhat hastily arrayed, came running
through the trees.
"Jimmy, have you seen the weather?" asked his sister, indicating the
blackened sky.
"Only a few minutes ago," Jim said, visibly annoyed with himself. "We
were diving in a hole with the trees meeting overhead, and the scrub
thick all around us--hadn't an idea it was working up for this. Why
didn't you call us, you old duffer?"
"I did--but I couldn't make you hear," said Norah, somewhat injured.
"Hurry--I've saddled up."
"You have? You didn't saddle Monarch?" asked Jim quickly.
"Yes, he's all ready, and the valises are on. We're in for a ducking,
anyway, don't you think, Jim?"
"I think you hadn't any business to saddle Monarch," Jim said, soberly.
"I wish you wouldn't do those things, Norah."
"Oh, it was all right." She smiled down at him. "He was only a bit
fidgety; I believe he's frightened of the weather, Jim." She looked
across at Cecil, seeing that young gentleman, wonderful to relate, with
his stock folded awry, and his hair in wild confusion. "Do you mind
thunderstorms, Cecil?"
"I--don't care for them much," Cecil panted. Running evidently did not
agree with him, and he was finding his tweed riding suit very unfitted
for the heat of the day. Jim, jogging easily, clad in white silk shirt,
cord breeches and leggings, looked at him pityingly.
"Carry your coat, Cecil?" he sang out.
"No, thank you. I'd rather wear it," said Cecil, who disapproved of
being coatless at any time, and had looked with marked disfavour at Jim
and Wally as they set off in the morning.
"Stupid donkey!" Jim muttered, under his breath. "Ah, there are the
horses!"
He made for Betty at once, and tossed the breathless Cecil into her
saddle, advising him to ride on quickly.
Wally was up in a twinkling; but to mount Monarch was no such easy
matter, for the black horse was dancing with restlessness, and a low
growl of thunder far to the west evidently terrified him. Finally, with
a quick movement, Jim was in the saddle, whereat Monarch promptly
reared. He came down, and tried to get his head between his legs, but
the boy was too quick for him, and presently steadied him sufficiently
to move away in the wake of the others.
"Go on!" Jim shouted. "Don't lose a minute!"
They went down the river bank at a hand gallop, chafing now and then at
the necessity of striking away from the track to find gates or
slip-rails, as one paddock followed another. At first Monarch gave Jim
all he knew to hold him, and at the gates Wally and Norah had to do all
the work, for the black thoroughbred was too impatient to stand an
instant, and threatened to buck a score of times. Jim watched the sky
anxiously, very disgusted with himself. He knew they had no chance of
getting home dry, but at least they must be out of the timber before
the storm broke. It was coming very near now--the thunder was more
frequent, and jagged lightning tore rents in the inky curtain that
covered the sky. He took Monarch by the head, and sent him tearing
along the track, passing the boys--Wally riding hard on Nan, and Cecil
sitting back on Betty with a pale face. Before him Bobs was galloping
freely, Norah riding with her hands well down, and on her face a smile
that was like a child's laugh of sheer happiness. Norah loved
thunderstorms; they seemed to call to something in her nature that
never failed to respond. She glanced up at Jim merrily as he passed
her.
"Grand, isn't it?" she said. Then her face changed. "He isn't getting
away with you, Jim?"
"Not he!" said her brother, grinning. "But we've got to get out of this
jolly soon--hurry your old crock, Norah!" Norah's indignant heel smote
Bobs, and they raced neck and neck for a moment.
They swung out of the trees just in time, the plain clear for home
before them. Almost simultaneously, the storm broke. There was a mad
flash of lightning across the gloom, and then a rattling peal of
thunder that rang round the sky and finished with a tremendous crack
overhead. The black horse stopped suddenly, wild with terror. Then his
head went down, and he bucked.
Norah and Wally pulled up, regardless of the rain beginning to fall in
torrents. Monarch was swaying to and fro in mad paroxysms, trying to
get his head between his knees, his back humped in an arch, all his
being centred in the effort to get rid of the weight on his back, and
the iron in his mouth, and the control that kept him near that terrible
convulsion of nature going on overhead. Jim was motionless, each hand
like iron on the rein--yet with gentleness, for he knew the great black
brute was only a baby after all, and a badly frightened baby at that.
Cecil, coming by on Betty, his face white, looked aghast at the
struggle between horse and rider, and fled on homewards. The thunder
pealed, and the lightning lit the sky in forked darts.
Possibly the rain steadied Monarch, or sense came back to him through
Jim's voice. He stopped suddenly, planting all four feet wide apart on
the ground. Jim patted his neck, and spoke to him, and the tension went
out of the big horse. He stood trembling a little.
"Slip along," nodded Jim to Norah.
Bobs and Nan went off together. Behind them, Monarch broke into a
canter, obedient once more.
Five minutes later they were at the stables, Billy out in the wet to
take the horses. The storm was raging still, but there were coolness
and refreshment in the air. Billy grinned at the three soaked riders as
they slipped to the ground, and then at Brown Betty, trotting down the
hill in the rain. There was no sign of Cecil, who had fled indoors.
"Him plenty 'fraid," said the black retainer, his grin widening. "Him
run like emu!" His eagle gaze dwelt on Monarch, who was still trembling
and excited.
"Been buck?" he asked, his eyes round.
"Plenty!" Jim laughed. "All right, Billy, I'll let him go myself."