Home Again.
A fortnight since the family, weary and dusty, with all the parcels,
bundles and battered baggage, arrived home at the farm. A fortnight!
And that holiday still fresh and green and going strong! The trip to
the city was thought of, talked of, laughed over, morning, noon and
night. Incidents were recalled, re-enacted and served up at breakfast,
dinner and tea. Friends who called at the home to welcome the family
back were treated to the minutest detail of the things that happened.
They heard it all from Mrs. Dashwood, from Tilly and Polly and from old
John; heard it from them severally; heard it from them jointly; heard
it from them backwards; heard it from them frontwards; heard it from
them endwards and sidewards. It was a great holiday—the greatest of
all holidays—that holiday of the Dashwoods. It was excelled only, if
excelled at all, by Noah and his ark and all his animals.
But the trip did the family some visible good. It worked wonders in
their methods, and gave a universal aspect to their outlook.
And upon none was the influence more marked than upon Peter. Peter
showed reform in his very walk, in the cut of his hair, in the shape of
his boots, in the odour and quality of his pocket handkerchiefs, and in
the wonderful variety of tooth-brushes and razors that now adorned his
bedroom. But it was the distinct and complete change in his studious
pursuits that rendered the reformation of Peter complete. Ambition set
in strong upon him. He hungered for fame. In his heart he secretly
longed to do something that would put all the great minds of the world
in the shade.
Peter turned his attention to invention.
Once, for about six months, while it was new, Peter rode a bicycle with
tremendous enthusiasm, but, tiring of the toy, which cost old John
fifteen guineas, discarded it in favour of a mule that arrived on the
farm, and hung the wheels up on the walls of the barn to harbour vermin.
Peter’s attention now reverted to that bicycle. Acting upon an
inspiration which came to him in the city, he locked himself in the
barn along with that bicycle and worked hard and mysteriously upon it
for many weeks. But what service it was that Peter hoped to render
humanity and the world _per_ medium of said bike no one had any idea.
Whether he had any himself or not remains to be seen.
“Goodness only knows,” James sniggered, in answer to his sisters one
day upon the matter, “I don’t think he knows himself. A new sort of
life buoy, perhaps, to take with him the next time he goes for a swim
in the breakers!”
The peals of laughter that came from the sisters reached the ears of
Peter. He threw open the door of the barn and thrusting out his head
enquired the cause of their mirth.
“Oh, something good, Peter!” from Tilly.
“They’re laughing at this invention of yours,” James said, with a grin.
“By Jove, then,” Peter answered, in a self-satisfied sort of way, “it’s
all right. It’s finished now, and I’m just going out to give her a
trial!”
The girls threatened to go off their heads with joy. They ran inside
for their hats, and loudly proclaimed Peter’s announcement to their
parents. “The great invention is finished!” they cried. “Come and see
it working.”
The parents, grinning broadly, came and saw.
Old McMurdy and his wife, passing in a sulky, pulled up at James’s
invitation and waited near the gate to witness the unveiling of the
miracle.
They hadn’t long to wait. The barn door opened wide again and Peter,
with the bicycle rigged in full canvas like a sailing boat, appeared.
His appearance was greeted with loud merriment.
But the mirth didn’t disconcert Peter.
“Wait till you see her going!” he said, with a grin.
James, who had laughed least of any, suddenly evinced an interest
in the invention. He stepped forward and held its head while Peter
re-adjusted the setting and rigging.
When a number of small things were attended to Peter mounted, and,
seating himself somewhere between the lower topsail and the flying
jib, invited James to give the brig a shove off. James shoved her, and
Peter, grinning, peddled cautiously to keep her balanced. Suddenly a
gust of wind came up and, catching in the topmast staysail, the craft
made a lurch to leave port per the open gate-way.
“Hah! hah! hah! h——” roared old McMurdy from the seat of the sulky, but
his mirth was short-lived. It was the first time his sulky horse had
set eyes on a sailing craft, and it reared, then flew round and bolted
up the road as though suddenly possessed of several devils.
When the brig cleared port and arrived in the middle of the road-way
it stopped and languished for want of wind. The sails started to flap
uselessly, and Peter had to pedal hard to keep her afloat.
Fresh merriment and jeers came from the family. But Peter propelled
assiduously with his feet, and worked his passage for about fifty
yards. Then a change came over the weather conditions. Up sprang a
breeze with some life and devil in it. It filled the flapping sails
till they looked like balloons, and hurried the barque off up the road
at full speed. Peter’s bosom filled with joy. He felt he had achieved
a triumph. He was sure he had conquered the world. Raising his legs he
rested them on the handle-bars as he whirled along. Peter believed in
taking success calmly and contentedly. Talk about ploughing the deep
and the main! Peter was ploughing the main stock route.
As she glided and wobbled along, the craft looked a strange quadruped.
Terence Blaises, a Justice of the Peace, who had just turned in at his
slip-rails, with a cart of empty milk-cans from the factory, observed
the strange white object floating calmly up over the horizon. Terence
put up the rails and, leaning both arms on them, waited wonderingly.
“Now, what th’ divil is it at all?” he murmured, as the brig came
rattling and “swishing” along in the wind. But the banging of milk-cans
in the rear caused Terence to jump round quickly and shout: “Woa, boy!
woa!” The horse didn’t “woa” worth considering. It flashed its glaring
mongrel eye upon the craft, then off, knocking down trees and throwing
empty milk-cans at the clouds. Terence pursued him till he fell over
a milk-can, and gave up. He looked back pathetically at the sailing
craft. The sails dipped and ducked as though saluting Terence in
passing, but further than that no communication passed between him and
Peter.
Successfully negotiating a corner in the road without going to pieces,
Peter set sail for the township. The township was situated in the
middle of a great plain. It sat, simmering there like a steak on a
grid-iron. The road to it was level, and as good as could be expected
from the average Australian Shire Council. There were numerous
deformities along it, of course, many of which bore evidence of the
Council’s intention to wipe them out some day. In fact, like the road
to hell, the township road was paved with good intentions.
A fair wind and a nowing sail drove the barque over the rolling plain
in gallant style.
A mile or so ahead a hooded gig, drawn by a sleepy rheumatic steed,
hove in sight. It was the township lawyer making for his branch
office, the local store at the next railway station, where, amongst
the rock-salt and empty crockery cases, as per advertisement in the
_Settler_, he journeyed bi-weekly to consult with farmers and dairymen
having grievances, and to lead them into trials and tribulation for
a modest fee. A few moments more and the distance between the brig
and the gig was reduced to chains. Then the sleepy, rheumatic steed,
suddenly waking up, stopped dead and stared like a brumby for the
first time looking at a wind-mill. The craft came on like a great
white eagle. The township lawyer, to satisfy himself it was not a
hallucination, popped on his gold-rim glasses and eyed the advancing
brig closely. He gave a short chuckle. He raised a hand and was about
to hail the captain to enquire the name of the vessel when that
rheumatic steed gave one decisive snort, and, swinging round, flew
like the wind for the township. The lawyer’s hat came off and flew out
the back way; then his glasses followed. The barque rode tranquilly
over the lost apparel. For about a mile Peter kept just behind that
flying quadruped; and whenever the lawyer got a pull on, and the animal
seemed inclined to reason with the bit, the “swish” of the barque in
the breeze would put fresh terror into the brute, and away he would go
again.
“D—n you!” the lawyer shouted, but his blasphemy didn’t reach Peter.
Then for fully three miles, until a cross road afforded a haven of
safety, that lawyer was driven before Peter like Cain flying before
Jehovah.
Having lost so much ground, the lawyer abandoned his mission and
decided to return to the township, permitting his steed to jog along at
a safe distance behind the offending craft.
[Illustration: PETER’S LATEST.]
With a full sail, and the mast dipping and bobbing as the brig rode
over the hills and hollows in the ill-formed street, Peter started
to enter the township. No band played; no chorus of voices sang the
“Conquering ’Ero”; there was nothing to greet or cheer Peter. But
there must have been as many as fifty horses standing calmly between
the shafts of vehicles outside the shops, and as many more fastened
to posts by their bridles. And Peter had not proceeded twenty yards
along that street when there wasn’t an animal in sight. They all became
obscured in a cloud of dust that was rolling out at the other end of
the township. And all that was to be seen in the street was a mob of
excited men and women, pieces of sulkies, broken lamp-posts and the
maimed and mangled remains of a Councillor, whom the Shire Clerk and
the newspaper editor were supporting in their arms.
“Don’t! Don’t hold her there!” Peter cried, when the rough hands of two
furious policemen seized hold of the sails of his craft. “You’ll spoil
her!”
“Phwat game is this?” yelled one of the bobbies, while the other,
seizing hold of Peter, hissed: “Yis ’ll paay fer me mahn, if yis ever
paid fer anythin’!”
Peter started to protest wildly. Peter was in trouble. But soon numbers
of friends had gathered round him.
The township lawyer, having arrived in good time, pushed himself
forward, and, planting a card in Peter’s hand, said:
“I’ve seen the whole thing; I’ll defend you.” Then the local
representatives of six banks jostled with each other for possession of
Peter’s ear.
“On deeds, or any security like that,” each of them said, “I can let
you have whatever you want.”
“Deeds!” growled the police, “there is his _deeds_!” and they pointed
scornfully to the maimed Councillor being borne off on a hurdle.
THE END.
Wholly set up and printed in Australia by John Sands Ltd., Sydney.
Transcriber’s Notes
New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the
public domain.
The following are corrections to the original text:
Page Correction
---- -----------------------------------------------------------------
1 Opening single quote removed from (to be back at “Fairfield”).
10 Apostrophe added to (have a talk along wi’).
16 “adminster” changed to (inclined to administer a rebuke).
19 “he” changed to “be” (An’ I’d be huggin’ ’em).
20 Closing quote changed to double in (am I up against!” said).
23 Opening quote added to (“You won’t! By heavens you”).
32 “be” changed to “he” (wasn’t me, sir!” he blubbered,).
44 “squeeky” (sharp, squeaky voice).
47 “be” changed to “he” (At the door he paused).
48 “calmy” changed to (strolled in and calmly).
49 Closing quote and punctuation added to (“he’s going to shoot!”).
67 “resistence” changed to (resistance was useless).
70 “a” added to (a Waterbury, secured to his vest)
81 “imp” changed to (sunk in a limp heap).
99 Opening quote added to caption in (“Boots O!”).
101 “night-porter” hyphenated to match the rest of the text.
113 “Dashwod” changed to (ye rread th’ Bulletin, Dashwood?”).
119 Period added to caption in (Duncan Approves.)
120 Period added to (couldn’t exactly locate it.)
127 Opening quote changed to double in (“Sankey” they felt that).
149 Closing quote added to (“old red-skin.” Some others).
150 Period added to (of twenty thousand guns.)
151 Period added to caption in (In the Breakers.)
156 “peels” changed to (The peals of laughter).
159 “journey” changed to (he journeyed bi-weekly).