CHAPTER EIGHT.
TO THE BUSH.
For some moments Nic acted involuntarily as he scrambled on his clothes,feeling, as he did, in a confused way that it was his duty to dress, butwhy and wherefore, he had not the most remote idea.
It was cold and raw, and everything went wrong; and as he could not gethimself quite dry, his shirt stuck to him and refused to go on. Thosethings which ought to have been in one place had got into another; andeven when the cold water had thoroughly wakened him he did not get onvery well, and felt ill-humoured, stupid, and out of sorts.
"It's so vexatious starting so soon," thought Nic, as lie thrust brush,comb, and nightshirt into the bag he had nearly packed over night; andat last he opened the door, just as his father called up the stairs:
"Come, Nic, my boy: they didn't teach you at school to be quick."
"Hush! you'll wake Lady O'Hara," protested the boy.
"I should be puzzled to," replied his father shortly. "Come in here."
"In here" meant the dining-room, where the first person he saw, by thelight of the candles standing on the white breakfast-cloth, was theirhostess.
Nic was quite awake now, and the last trace of ill-temper passed away ashe shook hands.
"I did not expect to see you this morning," he said.
"And did you think I was going to let old friends start without acomfortable breakfast? Why, it will be days, boy, before you getanother."
"Days?" said Nic.
"To be sure, boy. There is no stage coach for you, and you'll have tokeep with your waggon. These bullocks go about two miles an hour."
This was news to Nic, who had been imbued with some kind of notion thathe was going to get home that same evening, and that was why his fatherhad started so early.
Sir John entered the room directly after, and the meal was just as if ithad been nine o'clock instead of four in the morning; so that thetravellers were well prepared, when the doctor rose, to say good-bye,for the cracking of a stock whip and sundry ejaculations and apostrophesto the bullocks to "come on," and "get over," and "pull," were heardoutside, where a couple of horses freshly brought round were stampingand pawing the dust, impatient to be off.
The dogs were hurried round from the stables--these being the twocollies intended for the doctor--and after many frantic dashes at thehorses, they were taken forward toward the waggon, where the bullockswere immediately driven into a state of commotion, and faced round tolower their horns and receive their enemies.
Finally, however, the two excited animals were safely chained to theback of the waggon, which started at once with a great deal of whipcracking and shouting on the part of Brookes, his fellow, Leather, beingperfectly silent, and the black nowhere to be seen.
This start having been accomplished, the doctor returned with his son tosay their final farewells to the governor and his lady.
"There, good-bye, Nic," cried the latter; "it's only a little way offyou live. We think nothing of a few hundred miles here, and we shall becoming to see you, or you will us before very long. Are you a goodhorseman? That's a spirity-looking thing I see you're to ride."
Nic was nonplussed, and his father came to his help:
"Nic hasn't had time to practise much; he'll be a better rider next timehe comes down to the front."
"That's right," cried Lady O'Hara. "There: goodbye, and bless you, myboy! Give my dear love to your mother, and tell her I shall want tosteal you for a visit first time I come."
"I shall not be able to spare him," said the doctor, who had mounted,and now held the rein of the second horse. "Come, Nic, boy, up withyou."
Nic nervously raised his foot to the stirrup, made a desperate spring ashe clung to the pommel and cantle of the saddle, and somehow came downin his seat; but the horse started, and nearly threw him on to its neck.
"Steady!" cried the doctor sharply, as he held the rein firmly; and,nervous and startled, Nic shuffled back and nipped the saddle with allthe force of which his knees were capable.
"Are you all right, boy?" cried the governor.
"Yes, sir," said Nic, as firmly as he could, though he was wondering howlong it would be before he was all wrong.
"Good-bye, O'Hara," cried the doctor. "You will hear from me when I gethome."
"Good-bye," cried the governor; and, leaning toward his old friend, hewhispered:
"I'd take care: that boy can't ride a bit."
"I know," said the doctor. "Don't let him see that you do. Good-bye."
He touched his horse's sides, and the beautiful beast started to go offat a canter, but was checked instantly, to keep it in a walk, with theresult that it began to fret and dance. Nic's lighter steed followedsuit, and the boy's position grew moment by moment more desperate. Nowhe lost one stirrup, then the other; and it was only by getting a goodgrip of the pommel with one hand that he was able to stay on.
Finally, though, the horses were quieted down, and paced together in awalk, when the doctor said quietly:
"Why, Nic, it's a good thing that it is still dark. I'm afraid weshould have had some remarks made if people had been about."
"I--I never said I could ride, father," said Nic, in a reproachful tone.
"I'm glad you did not, boy. It's a good thing that you have no spurs."
"Is it, father?"
"Of course," cried the doctor; "if you had, Sour Sorrel would have soonpitched you off."
"I'm very sorry, father," faltered Nic, who felt very miserable as wellas uncomfortable. "Had I better get down and lead him?"
"If you feel so much afraid that you dare not stop on, my boy," said thedoctor drily.
The dawn was coming, and Nic turned to glance at his father's thin,cleanly cut profile, to see that he was gazing straight before himtowards where the waggon could be dimly seen in front.
"Well, are you?" continued the doctor, without turning his head.
Nic was silent, and the horse stumbled through putting a foot into adeep rut of the unkept road.
"Hold up, sir--steady, steady!" cried the doctor, drawing more heavilyupon the rein he still held, as well as his own; and then, after Nic hadshuffled back into the seat from which he had again been shaken, "Isaid, are you too much alarmed to stop on?"
These words sounded very stern, and stung and hurt the boy to the quick.
"I have never learned to ride, father," he said reproachfully; "and itis all fresh to me to be mounted upon a spirited horse like this."
"Of course it is: perfectly fresh. Then you feel afraid?"
"Yes, of falling off, father. I have nearly been down three times."
"Six, Nic. Well, get off and climb on to the waggon." Nic drew a deepbreath as his father checked the horses; and, stung more than ever, theboy kicked his nag with his heels and sent it forward.
"Well, why don't you get down, sir?"
"Because I'd rather keep on and ride, father," said Nic huskily.
"Do you mean that, sir?"
"Yes, father."
"Thank you, Nic," said the doctor, turning to him with a smile. "I likethe boy who is not afraid to own that he is alarmed; and better still tohear you say through your teeth that you will not be beaten--metaphorically, of course. Now, then, we understand our position. Thisis not boasting, mind--look at me. You see me here?"
"Yes, father," said Nic, feeling envious of the easy, upright positionof his father in the saddle.
"Let me tell you, then, that I feel as easy and comfortable here as if Iwere seated upon a cushion in a carriage. More so, for this noble beastknows me as I know him, and after a fashion we are as one together ingoing over the ground. Do you understand what that means, Nic?"
"Yes, father; but you have learned to ride."
"Yes, and more, boy. It means the confidence which comes of knowledge.When I came out here, years ago, I had not been on horseback for twentyyears; I was a miserable invalid, and when I mounted my horse--anecessity out in a wild country like this--I suffered a martyrdom ofnervo
us dread. But I did what you have just done, made up my mind thatI would master my fear and ride, and I won. It took me a whole year.As for you, it will not take you a month."
"So little time?" cried Nic excitedly.
"Or less. We have about a week's journey before us; and from what Ihave just learned, I shall be greatly surprised if you do not canter upto the station with me, a little stiff and sore about the knees, butgood friends with Sour Sorrel there, and ready to think riding adelightful accomplishment."
Nic shook his head.
"You don't know me yet, father," said the boy sadly.
"Better than you know yourself," replied the doctor. "But don't let'swaste time. You want to learn?"
"Horribly, father," cried Nic.
"Very well, then. I'll give you a lesson at once."
"Not faster, to begin with?" said Nic quickly.
"No," said the doctor, laughing. "I want to give you confidence, notdestroy it. So now then, to begin with, you shall learn what danger yourun. I am an experienced horseman, I have tight hold of your rein, sothat your horse cannot bolt, and I have promised you not to go fasterthan a walk. You see, then, the utmost that could happen in that waywould be that the nag might caper a little."
"Or kick and throw me off."
"He will not kick, boy. He is too well broken. Secondly, you mightlose your seat and come off: If you did, how far would you have tofall?"
"About four feet, father."
"Say four. Suppose you were on a see-saw at school, would you be afraidof falling, off four or five or six feet?"
"No, father, of course not."
"Then why should you be afraid of falling that distance from the horse?"
"I don't know," said Nic. "It is because it is all so fresh, I suppose.Yes, I do: my foot might hang in the stirrup and the horse gallop awaywith me, kicking me every time he strode."
"When I am holding him? The stirrups, then: take your feet out."
"Out of the stirrups, father? Is it safe to do so?"
"You were alarmed lest your foot should hang in one. Quick! out withthem. That's right: now draw them up, cross the leathers, and let theirons hang over on each side. Now how do you feel?"
"As if I must go off on one side or the other, father. The saddle is sodreadfully slippery."
"Take tight hold of it, then, with your knees, and keep your balance.That's not right: I said take hold with your knees, not the calves ofyour legs."
"That way, father?"
"Yes, that's better. Let your legs go well down, your heels too, andwhatever you do don't touch the pommel with your hand."
That last order was hard, for it was very easy to make a catch at thepommel so as to hold on.
"Sit up, boy. Don't bend forward. It hurts you a little at first, butyou get more and more used to it every hour. Now, then, we'll walkgently past the waggon. Don't let the men think you have never been ona horse before."
The horses' pace being so much faster than that of the bullocks, theywere soon by, after the doctor had spoken in a friendly way to the dogs,given his men an order or two, and then cast a critical eye over thesleek, patient oxen, which trudged along with swinging tails and hornsgiving a smart rap now and then as they encountered their yoke-fellows.
The track was plainly marked, but it had no pretence of being a road asit went on and on, to be lost in the distance of the bright greymorning. Away to their left was the harbour, with its shipping, andbeyond it the ocean; the town lay behind them, and on either side of thetrack with its lines of ruts there were plenty of green pasture andtrees scattered here and there--monsters some seemed to be--and in theopenings were great patches of short, scrubby growth.
All at once, as Nic was thinking how peculiar the trees looked incolour, there came a loud musical series of notes from a grove-likepatch, in which the boy immediately concluded there must be a house.
"Hear that?" said the doctor.
"Yes, father, plainly."
"Well, what do you make of it?"
"Some one playing a kind of flute."
"No, Nic. That is our Australian magpie."
"Magpie?" cried Nic, forgetting his uncomfortable seat; "but magpies athome in Kent have a harsh kind of laugh."
"Like that?" said the doctor, as a loud, hoarse chuckle arose.
"No: harsher and noisier. Was that the magpie?"
"No, Nic; that was our laughing jackass."
"What! A donkey?"
"No; there he sits, on that bare limb," cried the doctor, pointing up toa big, heavy-headed, browny-grey bird, which seemed to be watching them,with its great strong beak on one side.
Nic examined the bird carefully.
"You would not think that was a kingfisher?" said the doctor.
"No," cried Nic; "though the shape is something like, all but the tail,which is so much bigger."
"But it is a kingfisher all the same, though he does not fish as hisancestors may have done. He lives on beetles, lizards, mice, and frogs,and that sort of game. There's your flute-player again."
For the sweet, melodious, whistling notes arose once more, soundingsomewhat as if a person were running the notes of a chord up and downwith different variations.
"It's very sweet," said Nic.
"Yes. The colonists call it the magpie, but it is the piping crow ofAustralia. It is one of the earliest singers, and if we'd been here atdaybreak I dare say we should have heard quite a long solo."
Farther on Nic had a good look at one of the piping crows in theblack-and-white jacket which had obtained for it the familiar name ofmagpie; but it was far from being like that handsome bird the Britishmagpie, with its long tail glossed with metallic reflexions of goldengreen and purple, and with wing feathers to match.
Two or three times over, out in the open country, the horses startledNic by their disposition to go off at a canter, but after being checkedthey calmly settled down to their walking pace, which was fast enough toleave the bullock team behind; consequently Dr Braydon drew rein fromtime to time at the summit of some hill or ridge, so that his son mighthave a good view of the new land which was henceforth to be his home.Here he pointed out the peculiar features of the landscape and itsresemblance to an English park, save that, instead of the grassy landbeing dotted with oak, beech, elm, or fir, the trees were always whatthe doctor called "gum," with their smooth bark and knotted limbs, butgum trees of several varieties. Here and there a farmstead could beseen, but they were few and far between; still, where they did show,with the roughly built houses and their bark or shingle roofs, flocks ofsheep and droves of cattle could be seen scattered widely over theplain.
"Did you say we should be about a week getting home?" said Nic, afterone of these halts.
"Perhaps longer," said the doctor. "Everything depends on thosecrawling gentlemen behind. They have a heavy load: you see there is noroad, and if rain comes, as it is sure to before long, the load willseem twice as heavy to the patient beasts, and I can't afford to hurrythem and get them out of condition. Rain falls very seldom here, Nic;but when it does come there's no nonsense about it. There's a river onahead which we shall have to cross."
"Then you have bridges," said Nic naively, "if you have no regularroads?"
"Bridges? No; we shall have to ford it if we were going across to-day,it would be a few inches deep; if one of our big rain storms comes, itmight be forty or fifty feet. I have seen it sixty."
Nic glanced at his father.
"Simple truth, my boy," he said. "The river is in a deep trough betweentwo ranges of hills; and if there have been rains we might be detainedon the bank for days or weeks."
"And whereabouts does home lie?" asked Nic.
"Yonder," said his father, pointing toward the north-east. "The air iswonderfully clear now, and perhaps you can see what I do--that faintblue ridge that looks like a layer of cloud low down on the horizon."
"Yes, I can see it," said Nic eagerly; "but surely it won't take us aweek to ride ther
e. It looks quite close."
"Yes, in this clear atmosphere, Nic; but it is a long way off, as youwill find before we get there. Of course if we could canter our thirtyor forty miles a day we should soon be there, but we are an escort only.We want to take care of the waggon."
"But couldn't the men take care of that?"
"Perhaps; but a good master looks after his valuables himself. Brookesis a pretty trusty man, but the other is a new hand, whom I have latelyhad from my neighbour Mr Dillon, the magistrate, and I have not triedhim yet sufficiently to trust. That load contains things that will beof great value to me, things Lady O'Hara bought me: seeds andimplements, guns, ammunition, powder, and endless odds and ends wantedby your mother and sisters, who cannot send into the next street to buywhat they want."
"But surely in this wild, open place no one would interfere with thewaggon?"
"Think not? Why, Nic, we have bushrangers--escaped convicts--besideplenty of people less desperate but more dishonest, without counting theblacks."
"Are there any of them about here?" asked Nic, with a glance round.
"Perhaps. We hardly know where they may be. You see they belong towandering tribes which roam about in search of food. They are hereto-day and gone to-morrow. We never know when they may come."
"Are they dangerous?"
"Yes and no, my boy. We always have to be on our guard, especially insuch a lonely place as ours."
"But why did you go and live in such a lonely spot, father?" said Nic.
"Because the place suited me, my boy. I rode over hundreds of miles ofcountry before I pitched upon the Bluffs and took up the land. It wasbeautiful, the pasture was good, and there was that more than greatnecessary we look for in this droughty country--a good supply of water.I have known squatters out here lose hundreds of cattle and thousands ofsheep in a dry summer, when everything is burnt up."
By this time the bullocks had dragged their load close by, and for thefirst time Nic stared at a black figure, dressed in a strip of cloth anda spear, walking behind the waggon.
"There's one of the blacks, father," whispered Nic, staring at theshock-headed fellow, who turned a little on one side, and displayed ashort club with a large knob at one end.
"Only the fellow who helped to load," said the doctor.
Nic looked hard, for he had not recognised the man.
"He has got rid of his shirt and trousers, Nic, for the march home.These blacks are eager to get clothes, but it always seems a misery tothem to wear anything but a bit of cloth."
"But is it never cold here?"
"Very, sometimes--frosty; but they make a bit of a shelter and a tinyfire, and linger over it till the hot sun comes out, and then forget thecold. The old people here never even built a hut, Nic--only a shelter--a rough bit of fence."
In the middle of the day, when the sun came down with tremendous power,a halt was called beneath the shade of a gigantic gum tree, and Nic forthe first time realised why this name was applied to the one greatfamily of trees peculiar to the land, for drops of gum which had oozedout were gleaming red like carbuncles in the hot sunshine.
The doctor sprang from his horse, but Nic sat quite still.
"Dawn with you, my boy," cried his father; but, instead of obeying, Nicscrewed up his face into a peculiar shape.
"I don't feel as if I could, father."
"Oh! Stiff. Down with you, boy. You must work that off."
Nic set his teeth, and rolled off his horse in a most ungraceful way, tostand feeling as if the ground was unsafe and all on the move.
"Hurt?" said his father, smiling.
"Yes, father. It's as if my legs had been dragged wide apart andstretched."
"Getting in shape for your saddle, my boy. You'll soon get over this.Now look here."
Nic did look there, and was shown how to hobble his nag's fore legs tokeep it from straying, and how to unbridle and take off the saddle.
"Always give your horse a good rub down where the saddle has been, Nic,"said the doctor. "Horses are delicate animals. They deserve goodtreatment too. Your nag carries you well, and he looks to you forpayment in food, rest, and good treatment. These make all thedifference in the way a horse will last on a journey. Now, my lads,come along. Water."
The doctor led the way, and the horses followed like a couple of dogs.Nic was following too, with the sensation strongly upon him that heshould like to go down on all-fours and follow like a dog, for walkingseemed to be a mode of progress to which he was not accustomed.
"Wait a moment, Nic," said his father. "Unfasten the dogs and lead themhere. They must want water too."
Nic went to where the dogs were chained to the tail of the waggon,trying to walk firmly and erect, but it was hard work, for his legsseemed to be independent of his body, and there were moments when hefelt as if he had none at all.
But he tried not to show it, and while the men were unyoking the oxen,which immediately began to graze on the rich, succulent grass, Nicproceeded to unchain the dogs.
The task was not so easy as it looked, for the collies were frantic atthe thought of being unfastened, and barked and leaped about wildly. Tomake matters worse, they had been hard at work trying to strangle oneanother on the way by leaping over their chains, and tying them up in analmost inseparable knot, one which refused to yield to his fingers; andafter many tries Nic appealed to Brookes.
"I wish you'd come and unfasten this," he said. "I want to take thedogs to water."
"Take the dogs to water!" grumbled the man. "Why can't they takethemselves? Hi! Leather! Come and untie these dogs."
The younger man left the oxen he was loosening, and approached Nic in asurly way, hardly glancing at him; but for a few moments the chain-knotbaffled him, while the dogs bounded about wildly.
"Hold them by the collars for a minute," said Leather harshly.
Nic obeyed, feeling mentally lower now, for he seemed to be the servantinstead of the other.
Then he felt better, for the man softened a little in his manner.
"Poor brutes!" he said: "prisoners and thirsty. Steady, my lads,steady!"
"Oh, they won't be prisoners long," said Nic. "Father's afraid thatthey'd run back and try and get on board the ship or to the governor'shouse."
"There you are," cried the man, placing the chains in his hand, when, asif scenting out the water, the two collies started off, with eyesstarting and tongues hanging out of their mouths, tugging and strivingto get on, and forcing Nic to follow at a trot, his legs hurting him forthe first few moments horribly.
They were not long reaching the shady pool where the horses were nowstanding in a shallow, with the drops falling from their muzzle.
"Poor beasts! they are thirsty," cried the doctor, as Nic was literallydragged to the edge of the pool, the dogs striving to plunge right in."Don't let them go, Nic."
"But they'll have me in, father."
"Don't let them, boy. Ah!"
Nic had not the least intention of letting them, but as the dogs hadtugged at their chains the boy was forced from a hobble into a trot, andthen, before the doctor could help, he caught one foot in the toughherbage, tripped, went down, and was dragged a yard or two, and then,with a rush and tremendous splash, he followed the dogs' plunge off thebank into deep water, to be towed here and there by the delightedanimals, which swam about, barking, drinking, and threatening to tangletheir chains in a worse knot than before--to wit, round Nic.
But after the first few moments' confusion the boy touched bottom, andbegan to wade back, finding it easier to master the dogs in the waterthan out.
"Well, that's a nice beginning, Nic!" said the doctor.
"Isn't it horrid?" cried the boy.
"Wet?" said his father laconically. "There, it might have been worse.Let them drink, and then bring them back to the waggon and tie them up.We must keep them on the chain till we get them home. Poor fellows,then!" he cried, reaching down to pat the dripping heads. "There!you've had as much as is
good for you. Come along."
A tug or two at the chains brought the dogs out, to let themselves off,as it were, and scatter glistening water drops from their shaggy hides,after which they broke out into a duet of barks, and danced about on thebank, wagging their tails, evidently inviting Nic to cast sticks intothe water for them to fetch, but they followed quietly enough, with thehorses behind them, lowering their heads to bite playfully at thecollies' waving tails.
"You can get at your portmanteau; it's on the top," said the doctor, assoon as the dogs were secured. "Get out some dry things. You can makea dressing-room behind the tree."
All this the boy proceeded to do, and by the time he had changed he feltnone the worse for his involuntary bath, and hung his wrung-out garmentson the scorching waggon-tilt to dry.
This done, he obeyed his father's summons, and found him seated in theshade, waiting with a basket of provisions, which Lady O'Hara hadprovided for their use, while the two men were seated beneath anothertree eating, the black standing on one leg a short distance away,resting upon his spear and holding the sole of his right foot flatagainst his left knee so as to form a peculiar angle. And every now andthen one of the men pitched him a piece of bread, which he caught deftlyand proceeded to eat.
"Just as if he were a dog," thought Nic, as he sat down by his fatherand began his _al fresco_ dinner.
And how good it was! He forgot all about the stiffness in his legs inthe pure enjoyment of those moments. No school picnic had everapproached it, for everything was so gloriously new and fresh. Thebeautiful land stretched undulating right away to the blue-tintedmountains, the water-pool sparkled in the sunshine, the horses andcattle grazed in the thick rich grass, and the waggon helped to form apicture against a clump of shrubs, half-covered with yellow flowers,while a delicious scent of musk filled the air.
Never had repast tasted so delicious; and, with two exceptions, everyliving creature seemed to be partaking of this enjoyment in the midst ofthe peaceful repose in that lovely spot. The exceptions were the dogs,which kept on watching them and uttering an uneasy bark now and then,for the rich grass in which they stood was not to their taste.
Nic went on eating in silence for a few minutes, and then, breaking aloaf in two, rose and went off to the dogs, which readily attacked thebread, a long diet of biscuit on board ship having made them fairlyvegetarian in their tastes.
The doctor nodded approval as Nic returned wondering whether he wouldreceive a reproof, and the wayside meal went on till the doctor spoke.
"Well, Nic," he said, "how do you like the beginning of your roughlife?"
"It's glorious, father," cried the boy eagerly.
"Humph! In spite of the first lesson in riding, the ducking, and thismuddly way of eating--no table-cloth, no chairs or table?"
"Oh, I like it."
"Because it's new and the sun shines?"
"I know that the sun doesn't always shine, father," cried Nic. "I shalllike it, I know."
"That's right. But look: here come some visitors that you have onlyseen in cages at home."
Nic had already sprung to his feet, and he walked out from beneath thetree to gaze excitedly at a flock of white birds that came sailing up,evidently to alight in the grove, but the sudden appearance of the boymade them turn off, shrieking harshly, to find a resting-place fartheron, and Nic returned disappointed.
"Legs seem to be better, Nic?" said the doctor.
"Yes; I had forgotten them, father. But those birds!"
"Well, you scared them. You saw what they were?"
"Not white pigeons or gulls?" said Nic. "I could almost have fanciedthat they were cockatoos."
"No fancy about it, Nic. They were sulphur crests. You'll seethousands in the groves down by the river."
"Is there a river about here?"
"Your wet clothes seemed to suggest something of the kind," said thedoctor, laughing.
"But that was a pond," said Nic.
"A water-hole--a deep place in the river. That depression is a river,Nic," continued the doctor, pointing; "there it runs yonder. You cantrace it by the trees which cluster along its course. It is dried upnow, all but a hole here and there; but after rains it is a rushingstream, and I dare say a little water is always trickling along itscourse from hole to hole a few feet under ground. Now then, pack up thebasket. We shall want it for supper. Have a nap afterwards if you aretired. I shall not go on for an hour and a half yet."
But Nic wanted no nap--there was too much to see; and it did not seem tobe long before the order was given to yoke the oxen and saddle up.
First in the Field: A Story of New South Wales Page 8