THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES iTf THE SQUATTEE'S DEEAM H Stori^ of Hustralian %itc THE SQ^LJATTER'S DREAM H Storv> of Hustralian %\tc BY ROLF BOLDREWOOD AUTHOR OF "ROBBERY UNDER ARMS." ''THE MINER'S RIGHT," ETC. U u "tJ n MACMILLAN AND CO. AND NEW YORK 1891 The Might of Translation and lli'iro due lion is llin-rved Richard Clay and Sons, 1,i.mited, london and bungav. First Edition (Plblisiied Elsewhere). Ne7v Edition Published by Macmillan & Co., July, 1890 ; Reprinted August, October, and November, 1890, 1891. THE SQUATTER'S DREAM A BTOEY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. CHAPTER I. " Here iu the sultriest season let liim rest. Fresh is the green beneath those aged trees ; Here winds of gentlest wing will fan his breast, From heaven itself he may inhale the breeze." — Byron. Jack Ekdgrave was a jolly, well-to-do young squatter, who, in the year 185-, had a very fair cattle station in one of the Australian colonies, upon which he lived in much comfort and reasonable possession of the minor luxuries of life. He had, in bush parlance, " taken it up " himself, when hardly more than a lad, had faced bad seasons, blacks, bush-fires, bushrangers, and bankers (these last he always said terrified him far more than the others), and had finally settled down into a somewhat too easy possession of a couple of thousand good cattle, a well-bred, rather fortunate stud, and a roomy, cool cottage with a bi-oad verandah all covered with creepers. The climate in which his abode was situated was tem- perate, from latitude and proximity to the coast. It was cold in the winter, but many a ton of she-oak and box had burned away in the great stone chimney, before which Jack used to toast himself in the cold nights, after a long day's riding after cattle. He had plenty of books, for he did not altogether neglect what he called his mind, and he had time 631473 e THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. to read them, as of course he was not always out on the run, or away mustering, or doing a small — sometimes very small — bit of business at the country town, just forty miles oil", or drafting or branding his cattle. He would Avork away manfully at all these avocations for a time, and then, the cattle being branded up, the business in the country town settled, the musters completed, and the stockmen gone home, he used to settle down for a week or two at home, and take it easy. Then ho I'ead whole forenoons, rather indiscriminately perhaps, but still to the general advantage of his intelligence. History, novels, voyages and travels, classics, science, natural history, political economy, languages — they all had their turn. He had an uncommonly good memory, so that no really well-educated prig could be cer- tain that lie would be found ignorant upon any given subject then before the company, as ho was found to possess a fund of information when hard pressed. He was a great gardener, and had the best fruit trees and some of the best flowers in that part of the country. At all odd times, that is, early in the morning before it Avas time to dress for breakfast, in afternoons when he bad been out all day, and generally when he had nothing pai-ticular to do, he Avas accustomed to dig patiently, and to plant and prune, and drain and trench, in this garden of his. He was a strong fellow, who had always lived a steady kind of life, so that he had a constitution utterly unimpaired, and spirits to match. These last were so good that he generally rose in the morning Avith the kind of feeling Avhich every boy experiences during the holidays — that the day Avas not long enough for all the enjoyable occupations Avhich were before him, and that it Avas incumbent on him to rise up and enter into possession of these delights Avith as little loss of time as might be. For there Avere so many pleasant things daily occurring, and, Avonderful to relate, they Avere real, absolute duties. There Avere those cattle to be drafted that had been brought from the Lost Waterhole, most of Avhich he had not seen for six months. There Avere those nice steers to ride through, noAV so gi'OAvn and fattened — indeed almost ready for market. There Avcre ever so many pretty little calves, Avhite and roan and red, Avhich he had never seen at all, fol- l] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 3 lowing their mothers, and which were of course to be branded. It was not an unpleasant office placing the brand carefully upon their tender skins, an office he seldom delegated — seeing the J R indelibly impiinted thereon, with the consciousness that each animal so treated might be considered to be a five- pound note added to his property and possessions. There was the wild-fowl shooting in the lagoons and marshes which lay amid his territory ; the kangaroo hunt- ing with favourite greyhounds ; the jolly musters at his neighbours' stations — all cattle-men like himself ; and the occasional races, picnics, balls, and parties at the country town, where resided many families, including divers young ladies, whose fresh charms often caused Jack's heart to bound like a cricket-ball. He was in great force at the annual race meetings. Then all the good fellows — and there were many sqviatters in those days that deserved the appellation — who lived within a hundred miles would come down to Hampden, the coiintry town referred to ; and great would be the joy and jollity of that week. Every- body, in a general way, bred, trained, and rode his own horses ; and as everybody, in a general way, was young and active, the arrangement was productive of excellent racing and unlimited fun. Then the race ball, at which everybody made it a point of honour to dance all night. Then the smaller dances, picnics, and riding parties — for nearly all the Hampden yovmg ladies could ride Avell. While the "schooling" indulged in by Jack and his contemporaries, under the stimulus of ladies' eyes, over the stiff fences which surrounded Hampden, was " delightfully dangerous," as one of the girls observed, regretting that such amusements were to her prohibited. At the end of the week everybody went peaceably home again, fortified against such dullness as occasionally invades that freest of all free lives, that pleasantest of all pleasant professions — the calling of a squatter. Several times in each year, generally in the winter time, our hero would hold a great general gathering at Marsh- mead, and would " muster for fat cattle," as the important operation was termed. Then all the neighbours within fifty miles would come over, or send their stockmen, as the case might be, and there would be great B 2 4 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. fun for a few days — galloping about and around, and " cutting oik.," in the camp every day ; feasting, and smok- ing, and sinking, and story-telling. Loth in the cottage and the huts, with a modest allowance of drinking (in the dis- trict around Hampden there was very little of that), by night. After a few days of this kind of work. Jack would go forth proudly on the war-path with his stockman, Gcordio Stirling, and a black boy, and in front of them a good draft of unusually well-bred fat cattle, in full route for the metropolis — a not very lengthened drive — during which no possible care by day or by night was omitted by Jack or his subordinates — indeed, they seldom slept, except by snatches, for the last ten days of the journey, never put the cattle in the yard for any consideration whatever, but saw them safely landed at their market, and ready for the flattering description with which they were always submitted to the bidding of the butchers. This truly important operation concluded, Geordie and the boy Avero generally sent back the next day, and Jack proceeded to enjoy himself for a fortnight, as became a dweller in the wilderness who had conducted liis enterprise to that point of success which comi)rehends the cheque in your pocket. How he used to enjoy those lovely genuine holi- days, after his hard work ! for the work, while it lasted, icas pretty hard. And, though Jack with his back to the fire in the club smoking-room, laying down tlic law about the " Oi-ders in Council " or the prospects of the next Assembly Ball, did not give one the idea of a life of severe self-denial, yet neither does a sailor on shore. And as Jack Tar, rolling down the street, " with courses free," is still the same man who, a month since, was holding on to a spar (and life) at midnight, reefing the ice-hard sail, with death and darkness around for many a league ; so our Jack, leading his horse across a cold plain, and tramping up to his ankles in frosted mud, the long niglit through, innucdiately beliiiid his half- seen drove, was the same man, only in the stage of toil and endurance, preceding and giving keener zest to that of en- joyment. Our young squatter was a very sociable fellow, and had plenty of friends, lie wished ill to no man, and would ratlier do a kindness to any one than not. He liked all kinds of peo[)le for all kinds of oi)positc qualities. He I.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 5 liked the "fast" men, because they were often clever and generally had good manners. There was no danger of his following their lead, because he was unusually steady ; and besides, if he had any obstinacy it was in the direction of choosing his own path. He liked the savants, and the musical celebrities, and the "good" people, because he sympathized with all their different aims or attainments. He liked the old ladies because of their experience and improving talk ; and he liked, or rather loved, all the young ladies, tall or short, dark or fail-, slow, serious, languishing, literary — there was something very nice about all of them. In fact, Jack Redgrave liked everybody, and everybody liked him. He had that degree of amiability which pro- ceeds from a rooted dislike to steady thinking, combined with strong sympathies. He hated being bored in any way himself, and tried to protect others from what annoyed him so especially. ISTo wonder that he was popular. After two or three weeks of town life, into which he managed to compress as many dinners, dances, talks, flirta- tions, rides, drives, new books, and new friends, as would have lasted any moderate man a year, he would virtuously resolve to go home to Marshmead. After beginning to sternly resolve and prepare on Monday morning, he gene- rally went on resolving and preparing till Saturday, at some hour of which fatal day he would depart, telling himself that he had had enough town for six months. In a few days he would be back at Marshmead. Then a new period of enjoyment commenced, as he woke in the pure fresh bush air — his window I need not state was always open at night — and heard the fluty carols of the black and white birds which " proclaim the dawn," and the lowing of the dairy herd being fetched up by Geordie, who was a preternaturally early riser. A stage or two on the town side of his station lived Bertram Tunstall, a great friend of his, whose homestead he always made the day before reaching home. They were great cronies. Tunstall was an extremely well-educated man, and had a far better head than Jack, whom he would occasionally lecture for want of method, punctuality, and general heed- lessness of the morrow. Jack had more life and energy 6 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [diAi'. than his friend, to whom, however, he generally deftrretl in important matters. They had a sincere liking and respect for one another, and never had any shadow of cold- ness fallen upon their fiiendship. When either man went to town it would have been accounted most unfriendly if he had not within the week, or on his way home, visited the other, and given him the benefit of his new ideas and experiences. Jack accordingly rode up to the " Lightwoods" half an hour before sunset, and seeing his friend sitting in the vei'andah reading, raised a wild shout and galloped up to the garden gate. " Well, Bertie, old boy, how serene and peaceful we look. No wonder those ruffianly agricultural agitators think we squatters never do any work, and ought to have our runs taken away and given to the poor. W'hy, all looks as quiet as if everything was done and thought about till next Christmas, and as if you had been reading steadily in that chair since I saw you last." " Even a demagogue, Jack, would hesitate to believe that because a man read occasionally he didn't woi'k at all. T wish //eings who would liave knocked him on the liead with as little remorse then as an opossinii ! Vonder was where the old Hod Init stood, put up l)y him and the faithful ficordie, and in which lie liad considered himself luxuriously lodged, as a toiitrast to living under a dray. CHAP. II.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 11 Over there was where he had sowed his first vegetable seeds, cvxtting down and carrying the saplings with which it was fenced. It was, certainly, so small that the blacks believed he had buried some one there, whom he had done to death secretly, and would never be convinced to the contrary, disbelieving both his vows and his vegetables. There was the stockyard which he and Geordie had put up, carrying much of the material on their shoulders, when the bullocks, as was their custom, " quite frequent," were lost for a week. He gazed at the old slab hut, the first real expensive regular station-building wliich the property had boasted. How proud he had been of it too ! Slabs averaging over a foot wide ! Upper and lower Avall-plates all complete. Loop holes, necessities of the period, on either side of the chimney. Never was there such a hut. It was the first one he had helped to build, and it was shrined as a palace in his imagination for years after. And now that the rude old days were gone, and the pretty cottage stood, amid the fruitful orchard and trim llower-beds, that the brown face of Harry the groom appears, from a well-ordered stable, with half-a-dozen colts and hacks duly done by at rack and manger, that the stackyard showed imposingly with its trimly-thatched ricks, and that the table was already laid by Mrs. Stirling, the housekeeper, in the cool dining-room, and " decored with napery " very creditable to a bachelor establishment ; — was he to leave all this realized order, this capitalized comfort, and go forth into the arid wilderness of the interior, suffer- ing the passed-away privations of the " bark hut and tin pot era" — all for the sake of — whatl Making more money ! He felt ashamed of himself, as Geordie came forward with a smile of welcome upon his rugged face, and said — " Well, master, I was afraid you was never coming back. Here's that fellow Fakewell been and mustered on the sly again, and it's the greatest mercy as I heard only the day before." " You were there, I'll be bound, Geordie." •' Ye'll ken that, sir, though I had to ride half the night. It was well worth a ride, though. I got ten good calves and 12 THE SQUATTER'S DEEAJI : [ciiAr. a gra-aml tuoy ear-old, unbranded heifer, old Poll's, you'll mind her, that got away at weaning." " I don't remenilier — but how did you persuade Fakewell to take your word 1 I sliould have thought he'd have forged half-a-dozen mothers for a beast of that age." '•"Well, we had a sair barney, well nigh a fight, you might be sure. At last I said, ' I'll leave it to the black boy to say whose calf she is, and if he says the wrong cow you shall have her.' " ' But how am I to know,' says he, ' that you haven't told him what to say 1 ' " 'You saw him come up. Hoo could I know she was here 1 ' " ' Well, that's true,' says he. ' Well, now you tell me the old cow's name as you say she belongs to, so as he can't hear, and then I'll ask him the question.' "'All right,' I said, 'you hear the paction (to all the stockmen, and they gathered round) ; Mr. Fakewell says he'll give me that heifer, the red l)east with the white tail, if Sandfly there can tell the auld coo's name right. You see the callant didna come with me ; he just brought up the fresh horses.' " ' All right,' they said. " So Fakewell says — ' Now, Sandfly, who does that heifer belong to 1 ' " "J'lie small black imp looks serious at her for a minute, and then liis face broke out into a grin all over. ' That one belong to Mr. Redgrave — why tliat old ' cranky Poll's ' calf, we lose him ovit of weaner mob last year.' " All right, that's so," says Fakewell, uncommon stilky, while all tlie men just roared ; ' but don't you brand yer calves when you wean 'em 1 ' " 'Tliatfme get through gate, and Mr. Redgrave says no use turn back all the mob, then tree fall down on fence and let out her and two more. But that young cranky Poll safe enough, I take Bible oath.' "'You'll do; take your heifer,' says lie; 'I'll be even with some one f(»r Ihis.'" " I dare say he didn't get the best of you, INTa-ster Geordio," said Jack, kindly ; "he'd be a sharp fellow if lie did. Y(tu weie going to nuister the ' Lost Waterhole ('amp' soon, weren't you 1" II.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 13 " There's a mob there that wants bringing in and regu- lating down there just uncommon bad. I was biding a bit, till you came home." " Well, Geordie, you can call me at daylight to-morrow. I'll have an early breakfast and go out with you. You know I haven't been getting up quite so early lately." " You can just wake as early as any one, when you like, sir ; but I'll call you. What horse shall I tell Harry 1 " " Well, I'll take ' the Don,' I think. No, tell him to get * Mustang,' he's the best cutting-out horse." " No man ever had a better servant," thought Jack as he sat down in half an hour to his well-appointed table and well-served, well-cooked repast. Geordie Stirling Avas as shrewd, staunch a Borderer as ever was reared in that somewhat bleak locality, a worthy de- scendant of the men who gathered fast with spear and brand, when the bale-fires gave notice that the moss-troopers were among their herds. He Avas sober, economical, and self- denying. He and his good wife had retained the stern doctrines in which their youth had been reared, but little acted upon by the circumstances and customs of colonial life. Jack applied himself to his dinner with reasonable ear- nestness, having had a longish ride, and being one of those persons whose natural appetite is rarely interfered with by circumstances. He could always eat, drink, and sleep with a zest which present joy or sorrow to come had no power to distm-b. He therefore appreciated the roast fowl and other home-grown delicacies which Mrs. Stirling placed before him, and settled down to a good comfortable read afterwards, leaving the momentous question of migi-ation temporarily in abeyance. After all this was over, however, he returned to the consideration of the subject. He went over Fred Tunstall's arguments, which he thought were well enough in their way, but savovired of a nature unprogressive and too easily contented. " It's all very well to be contented," he said to himself ; " and we are very fah-ly placed now, but a man must look ahead. Suppose these runs are cut up and sold by a democratic ministry, or allowed to be taken up, before survey, by cockatoos, where shall we he in ten years 1 Almost cockatoos ourselves, with run for four or five hundi-ed head of cattle ; a lot of fellows pestering our lives out ; and 14 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [cuap. a couple of thousand acres of purchased land. There's no living to be made out of that. Not what I call a living ; unless one were to uiilk his own cows, and so on. I hardly think I should do that. No ! I'll go in for something that will be growing and increasing year by year, i\ot the other way. This district is getting worn out. The land is too good. The runs are too small and too close to one another, and will be smaller yet. No ! my idea of a run is twenty miles frontage to a river — the Oxley or the Lachlan, with thirty miles back ; then with twenty thousand ewes, or even ten to start Avith, you may expect something like an increase, and lots of gi-ound to put them on. Then sell out and have a little Continental travel ; come back, marry, and settle down. By Jove ! here goes — Victory or Westminster Abbey ! " Inspired by these glorious visions, and conceiving quite a contempt for poor little Marshmead, with only 2,000 cattle and a hundred horses upon its 20,000 acres. Jack took out his writing materials and scribbled off the following advertisement : — " Messrs. Drawe and Backwell have much pleasure in an- nouncing the sale by auction, at an early period, of which due notice Avill be given, of the station known as Marshmead, in tlic Hampden district, Avith tAvo thousand unusually Avell-bred cattle of the J R brand. The run, in point of quality, is one of the best, in a celebrated fattening district. The cattle are highly bred, carefully culled, and Ikia-o always brought fii'st-class prices at the metropolitan sale-yards. The im- provements are extensive, modern, and complete. The only reason for selling this valuable property is that the pro- prietor contemplates leaving the colony." " There," said Jack, laying doAvn his pen, " that's quite enough — puffing won't sell a place, and everybody's heard of IMarshmead, and of the J 11 cattle, most likely. If they haven't, they can ask. There's no gi-eat difliculty in selling a first-class run. And noAv I'll seal it up ready for the post, and turn in." Next morning, considerably to Geordio's disappointment. Jack declined to go out to the " Lost Waterhole Camp," telling him rathor sliortly (to conceal his real feelings) that II.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 15 he thought of selling the place, and that it would be time to muster when they were delivering. " Going to sell the run ! " gasped Geordie, perfectly aghast. " Why, master, what ever put such a thing into your head ? Where will ye find a bonnier place than this 1 and there's no such a herd of cattle in all the country round. Sell Marshmead ! Why, you must have picked up that when in town." "Never mind where I picked it up," said Jack, rather crossly ; " I have thought the matter over well, you may believe, and as I have made up my mind there is no use in talking about it. You don't suppose Hampden is all Australia ? " "No, but it's one of the best bits upon the whole surface of it — and that I'll live and die on," said Geordie. " Look at the soil and the climate. Didn't I go across the Murray to meet they store cattle, and wasna it nearly the death of me 1 Six weeks' hard sun, and never a drop of rain. And blight, and flies, and bush mosquiteys ; why, I'd rather live here on a pound a week than have a good station there. Think o' the garden, too." "Well, Geordie," said Jack, "all that's very well, but look at the size of the runs ! Why, I saw 1,000 head of fat cattle coming past one station I stayed at, in one mob, splendid cattle too ; bigger and better than any of our little drafts we think such a lot of. Besides, I don't mind heat, you know, and I'm bent on being a large stockholder, or none at all." " Weel, weel ! " said Geordie, "you will never be con- vinced. I know you'll just have vour own way, but take care ye dinna gang the road to lose all the bonny place ye have worked hard for. The Lord keep ye from making haste to be rich." " I know, I know," said Jack, testily ; " but the Bible says nothing about changing your district. Abraham did that, you know, and evidently was getting crowded up where he was." "Master John, you're not jestin' about, God's Word! ye would never do the like o' that, I know, but Elsie and I will pray ye'll be properly directed — and Elspeth Stirling will be a sorrowful woman I know to stay behind, as she 16 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [citap. must, when all's sold and ye go away to that desolate, wae- some hot desert, wliero there's neither Sabbaths, nor Christian men, nor the Word once in a year." The fateful advertisement duly appeared, and divers " in- tending pui'chasers," introduced by Messrs. Drawe and Backwell, arrived at Marshmead, where tlicy were met with that tempered civility which such visitors generally receive. The usual objections were made. The run was not large enough ; the boundaries were inconvenient or not properly defined ; the stock Avere not as good as had been represented ; the improvements were not sufficiently extensive. This statement was made by a young and aristocratic investor, who was about to be marvied. lie was very critical about the height of the cottage walls, and the size of the sitting- room. The buildings were too niimerous and expensive, and wovild take more money than they were worth to keep in repair. This w^as the report and opinion of an elderly purchaser (Scotch), who did not see the necessity of anything bigger than a two-roomed slab hut. Such an edifice had been quite enough for him {he was pleased to remark) to make twenty thousand poiuids in, on the Lower Murray, and to drink many a galhjn of whisky in. As such results and recreations comprised, in his estimation, "the whole duty of man," he considered Jack's neat outbuildings, and even the garden — horresco referens / — to be totally super- llvious and unprofitable. He expressed his intention, if he were to do such an unlikely thing as to buy the wee bit kail- yard o' a place, to pull two-thirds of the huts down. All these criticisms, mingled with sordid chalVering, were extremely distasteful to Jack's taste, and his temper suffered to such an extent that he had thought of writing to the agents to give no furtlier orders fur inspection. However, sliortly after the departure of the ol)jeetIonable old savage, as he profanely termed the veteran pastoralist, he received a telegram to say that the sale was concluded. Mr. Donald McDonald, late of Binjec-Miingee, had paid half cash, and the rest at short-dated bills, and would send his nephew, Mr. Angus M'Tavish, to take delivery in a few days. Long ])ofore these irr«'Vocal)lo jnaHers had come to pass, our hero had Ijitterly repented of liis dclcniiinalion. Tliosu of liis neighbours who were not on such terms of intimacy II.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 17 as to expostulate i-oundly, like Tunstall, could not conceal their distrust or disapproval of his course. Some were sincerely sorry to lose him as a neighbour, and this expres- sion of feeling touched him more deeply than the opposition of the others, Mr. M'Tavish arrived, and, after delivery of his credentials, the last solemnities of mustering and delivery were duly concluded. The " nephew of his uncle " was an inexperienced but deeply suspicious youth, who declined to take the most obvious things for granted, and consistently disbelieved every word that was said to him. Geordie Stirling with difficulty refrained from laying hands upon him ; and Jack was so dis- gusted with his " manners and customs " that, on the evening when the delivery was concluded, he declined to spend another night at old Marshmead, but betook himself, with his two favourite hacks, specially reserved at time of sale, to the nearest inn, from which he made the best of his way to the metropolis. The disruption of old ties and habitudes was much more painful than he had anticipated. His two faithful retainers located themselves upon an adjoining farm, which their savings had enabled them to purchase. To this they removed their stock, which was choice though not numerous. Geordie, after his first warning, said no more, knowing by experience that his master, when he had set his mind upon a thing, was more obstinate than many a man of sterner mould. Too sincere to acquiesce, his rugged, weather-beaten lineaments retained their look of solemn disapproval, mingled at times with a curiously pathetic gaze, to the last. With his wife Elspeth, a woman of much originality and force of character, combined with deep religious feeling of the old-fashioned Puiitan type, the case was different. She had a strong and sincere affection for John Redgrave, whom she had known from his early boyhood, and in many ways had she demonstrated this. She liad vinobtrusively and efficiently ministered to his comfort for years. She had not scrupled to take him to task in a homely and earnest way for minor faults and backslidings, all of Avhich rebukes and remonstrances he had taken in good part, as springing from an over-zealous but conscientious desire for his welfare. His c 18 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. friends smiled at the good old woman's warnings and testify- ings, occasionally delivered, when performing her household duties, in the presence of any company then and there assembled, by whom she was not in the slightest degree abashed, or to be turned from any righteous purpose. " Eh, Maifster John, ye'U no be wantiu' to ride anither of thae weary steeplechasers 1 " she had been pleased to inquire upon a certain occasion ; " ye'll just be fa'in doon and hurtin' yersel', or lamin' and woundin' the puir beastie that's been granted to man for a' usei'ul purposes ! " She had been in the habit of " being faithful to him," as she termed divers very plain spoken and home-thrusting exhoi-tations in respect to his general habits and walk in life, whenever she had reason to think such allocution to be necessary. She had taken him to task repeatedly for unpro- fitable reading upon, and lax observance of, the Sabbath ; for a too devoted adherence to racing, and the unpardonable sin of betting ; for too protracted absences in the metropolis, and consequent neglect of bis intei'ests at Marshmead ; and, generally, for any departure from the strict line of Christian life and manners which she rigidly observed herself, and compelled Geordie to practice. Though sometimes testy at such infringements upon the liberty of the subject. Jack had sufficient sense and good feeliui; to rocoq'nize the true and deep nuxiety for his welfare from which this excess of care- fulness sprang. In every other respect old Elsie's rule was without tlaw or blemish. For all the years of their stay at Marshmead, no bachelor in all the West had enjoyed such perfect immunity from the troubles and minor miseries to which Australian employers are subjected. Spotless cleanli- ness, perfect comfort, and proverbial rookery, had been the unbroken experience of the Marshmead household. It was a place at which all guests, brought there for pleasure or duty, hastened to arrive, and lingered with flattering un- willingness to leave. And now this pleasant home was to be bi'oken up, the peaceful repose and organized comfort to be abandoned, and the farewell words to bo said to the faithful retainer. Jack felt parting with the old woman more than he cared to own ; he felt almost ashamed and slightly irritated at the depth of his emotion. "Confound il." he said to himself, 11.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 19 " it's very hard that one can't sell one's run and move off to a thinly-stocked country without feeling as if one had com- mitted a species of wrong and treachery, and having to make as many affecting farewells as I have no doubt my governor did when he left England for the terra incognita Australia." "Well, Elsie," he said, with an attempt at ease and jocularity he was far from feeling, "I must say good-bye. I hope you and Geordie will be snug and comfortable at your farm. I'll write to you when I'm settled in Eiverina ; and, if I do as well as some others, I shall make a pot of money, and be off to the old country in a few years." He put out his hand, but tlie old woman heeded it not, but gazed in his face with a wistful, pleading look, and the tears filled her eyes, not often seen in melting mood, as she said — " Oh, Maister John, oh, my bairn, that I should live to see you ride away from the bonny home where ye've lived so long, and been aye respeckit and useful in your generation. Do ye think ye laave the Lord's blessing for giving up the lot where He has placed ye and blessed ye, for to gang amang strangers and scorners — all for the desire of gain 1 I misdoot the flitting, and the craving for the riches that perish in the using, sairly — sairly. Dinna forget your Bible ; and pray, oh, pray to Him, my bairn, that ye may be direckit in the right way. I canna speak mair for greetin' and mistrustin' that my auld een have looked their last on your bonny face. May the Lord have ye in His keeping." Her tears flowed unrestrainedly, as she clasped his hand in both of hers, and then turned away in silence. " Geordie," said our hero, strongly inclined to follow suit, " you mustn't let Elsie fret like this, you know. I am not going away for ever. You'll see me back most likely in the summer, for a little change and a mouthful of sea air. I shall find you taking all the prizes at the Hampden show with that bull calf of old Cherry's." " It's little pleesure we'll have in him, or the rest of the stock, for a while," answered Geordie. " The place will no be natural like, wantin' ye. The Lord's will be done," added he, reverently. " We're a' in His keepin'. I'd come with ye, for as far and as hot as yon sa-andy desert o' a place is, if it werena for the wife. God bless ye, Maister John ! " c 2 CHAPTER III. " So forward to fresh fields and pastures new." — Milton. Jack's spirits had recovered theii* usual high average when he found himself once more at the club in a very free and unfettered condition, and clothed with the prestige of a man who had sold his station well, and was likely to rise in (pastoi'al) life. He was bold, energetic, moderately experienced, and had all that sanguine trust in tlie splendid probabilities of life common to those youthful knights who have come scatheless through the tourney, and have never, as yet, been " Dragged from amid the horses' feet, With dinti'd shield and helmet beat." He derived a little amusement (for he possessed a keen faculty of observation, though, as with other gifts, he did not always make the best use of that endowment) from the evident brevet rank which was accorded to him by the moneyed and other magnates. His advice was asked as to stock investments. He was consulted upon social and politi- cal questions. Invitations, of which ho had always received a fair allowance, came in showers. Rejiort magnified con- sidt'rably tlio price ho had received for Marshmoad. Many cliaprroiis ami hauglity matrons of the most exacting class bid eagerly for his society. In short, Jack Redgrave had become the fashion, and for a time revelled in all the privi- leged luxury of that somewhat intoxicating position. Not- withstanding a lino natural tendency desijiere in loco, our hero was much too shrewd and pi-actical a personage not to be fully aware that this kind f)f thing could not last. He had a far liigiiei- .■nnliit'nn tli;i)i would li.ivf jiermittcd him to CHAP. III.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 21 subside into a club swell, or a social butterfly, permanently. He had, besides, that craving for bodily exercise, even labour, common to men of vigorous organization, which, however lulled and deadened for a time, could not be con- trolled for any protracted period. He had, therefore, kept up a reasonably diligent search among the station agents and others for any likely invest- ment which might form the nucleus of the large establishment, capable of indefinite expansion, of which he had vowed to become the proprietor. Such a one, at length {for, as usual when a man has his pockets full of money, and is hungering and thirsting to buy, one would think that there was not a purchaseable run on the whole continent of Australia), was " submitted to his notice" by a leading agent ; the proprietor, like himself in the adver- tisement of Marshmead, was "about to leave the colony," so that all doubt of purely philanthropical intention in sell- ing this " potentiality of fabulous wealth " was set at rest. Jack took the mail that night, with the offer in his pocket, and in a few days found himself deposited at "a lodge in the wilderness " of Riverina, face to face with the magnifi- cent enterprize. Gondaree had been a cattle-station from the ancient days, when old IMorgan had taken it up with five hundred head of cattle and two or thi-ee convict servants, in the interests and by the order of the well-known Captain Kidd, of Double Bay. A couple of huts had been built, with stock-yard and gallows. The usual acclimatization and pioneer civilization had followed. One of the stockmen had been speared : a score or two of the blacks, to speak well within bounds, had been shot. By intervals of labour, sometimes toilsome and incessant, oftener monotonous and mechanical, the sole re- creation being a mad debauch on the jmi't of master and man, the place slowly but surely and profitably progressed — pro- gressed with the tenacious persistence and sullen obstinacy of the race, which, notwithstanding toils, dangers, broils, blood- shed, and reckless revelries, rarely abandons the object originally specified. Pioneer or privateer, merchant or mis- sionary, the root qualities of the great colonizing breed are identical. They perish in the breach, they drink and gamble, but they rarely raise the siege. The standard is planted. 22 THE SQLfATTER'S DREAM : [aixr. though hy reckless or unworthy hands ; still goes on the grand march of civilization, with splendour of peace and pomp of war. With the fair fanes and foul alleys of cities — with peaceful village and waving cornfield — so has it ever been ; so till the dawn of a purer day, a higher faith, must it ever be, the ceaseless " martyrdom of man." " And the individual witliers, And the race is more and more." Gondaree had advanced. The di-afts of fat cattle had im- proved in number and quality — at first, in the old, old days, when supply bore hard upon demand, selling for little more than provided an adequate (juautity of Hour, tea, sugar, and tobacco for the year's consumption. But the herd had spread by degrees over the wide plains of " the back," as well as over tlie broad river flats and green reed-beds of " the frontage," and began to be numbered by thousands rather than by the original hundreds. Changes slowly took place. Old Morgan had retired to a small station of his own Avith a herd of cattle and horses doubtfully accumulated, as was the fashion of the day, by permission of his master, who had never once visited Gondaree. The old stockmen were dead, or gone none knew whither ; but another overseer, of comparatively modern notions, occu- pied his place, and while enduiing the monotonous, un- relieved existence, cursed the vin])rogiossive policy which debarred him from the sole bush recreation — in that desert region — of planning and putting up "impi-ovements." About the jioriod of which Ue speak, it had occurred to the trustees of the late Captain Kidd that, as cattle-stations had risen much in value in that part of the country, from the rage which then obtained to dispose of those despised animals and replace them with sheep, it was an appropriate time to sell. The station had paid faiily for years past. Not a penny had been spent upon its development in any way; and now, "as those Victorian fellows and others, who ought to know better, were going wild about salt-busli cattle-stations to put sheep on — why, this .was clearly the time to put Gondaree in the market." As Jack di-ovo up in the unpretending vehicle which hoic III.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 23 Her Majesty's mails and adventurous travellers to the scarce- known township of " far Bochara," the day was near its close. The homestead was scarcely calculated to prepossess people. They had passed the river a couple of miles back, and now halted at a sandy hillock, beneath which lay a sullen lagoon. There were two ruinous slab huts, with bark roofs, at no great distance from each other. There was a stock-yard immediately at the back of the huts, where piles of bones, with the skulls and horns of long-slain beasts, told the tale of the earliest occupation of the place. There was no garden, no horse-paddock, nothing of any kind, sort, or description but the two huts, which might have originally cost ten pounds each. Jack, taking his valise and rug, walked towards the largest hut, from which a brown-faced young fellow, in a Crimean shirt and moleskin trousers, had emerged. "You are Mr. — Mr. — Eedgrave," said he, consulting a well-thumbed letter which he took out of his pocket. "I have ordei's to show you the place and the cattle. Won't you come in? " Jack stepped over two or three impediments which barred the path, and narrowly escaped breaking his shins over a bullock's head, which a grand-looking kangaroo dog was gnawing. He glanced at the door, which was let into the wall-plate of the hu.t above and below, after the oldest known form of hinge, and sat down somewhat ruefully iipon a wooden stool. " You're from town, I suppose 1 " said the young man, mechanically filling his pipe, and looking with calm interest at Jack's general get-vip. " Yes," answered Jack, " I am. You are aware that I have come to look at the run. When can we make a beginning 1" " To-morrow morning," was the answer. " I'll send for the horses at daylight." " How do you get on without a horse-paddock ? " asked Jack, balancing himself upon the insecure stool, and looking enviously at his companion, who was seated upon the only bed in the apartment. " Don't you sometimes lose time at musters ? " "Time ain't of much account on the Warroo," answered 24 THE SQUATTER'S DUEAM : [chap. the overseer, spitting carelessly upou tiie eiutheu lloor. " We have a cursed sight more of it than we know what to do Avith. And Captain Kidd didn't beheve in improve- ments. Many a time I've wi'itten and written for this and that, but the answer was tliat old Morgan did very well without them for so many years, and so might I. I got sick of it, and just rubbed on like the rest. If I had had my way, I'd have bvu'ned down the thundering old place long ago, and put iip everything new at Steamboat Point. But you might as well talk to an old working bullock as to our trustees."" " What are the cattle like ? " inquired Mr. Redgrave. " Well, not so bad, considering there hasn't been a bull bought these ten years. It's first-class fattening country ; I dare say you saw that if you noticed any mobs as you came along." Jack nodded. " When the country is real good cattle will hold their own, no matter how they're bred. There ain't much the matter with the cattle — a few stags and rough ones, of course, but pretty fair on the whole. I expect you're hungry after your journey. The hut-keeper will bz-ing in tea directly." In a few moments that functionary appeared, with a pair of trousers so extremely dirty as to suggest the idea that he had been permanently located upon a back block, where economy in the use of water was a virtue of necessity. Rubbing down the collection of slabs which did duty for a table with a damp cloth, he placed thereon a tin dish, con- taining a large joint of salt beef, a damper like the segment of a cart-wheel, and a couple of plates, one of Avhich was of the same useful metal as the dish. He then de]iarted, and presently appeared with a very black camp-kettle, or billvr of hot tea, which he placed upon the iloor ; scattering several pannikins upon the board, one of which contained sugar, he lounged out again, after having taken a good comprehensive stare at the new comei\ " We smashed our teapot last muster," said the manager, apologetically, "and we can't get another till llic drays come up. This is a pretty rougli sho]), as you see, but I suppose you ain't just out from England ? " " I have been in the bush before," said Jack, senten- tiously. " Are the Hies always as bad here ? " III.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 25 *' Well, they're enough to eat your eyes out, and the mos- quitoes too — worse after the rains ; but they say it's worse lower down the river." " Worse than this ! I should hardly have thought it possible," mused Jack, as the swarming insects disputed the beef with him, and caused him to be cautious of shutting his mouth after enclosing a few accidentally. The bread was black with them, the sugar, the table generally, and every now and then one of a small black variety would dart straight into the corner of his eye. When the uninviting meal was over, Jack walked outside, and, lighting his pipe, commenced to consider the question of the purchase of the place. With the sedative influences of the great narcotic a moi'e calmly judicial view of the question presented itself. He was sufficiently experienced to know that, whereas you may make a homestead and adjuncts sufiiciently good to satisfy the most exacting Squatter-Sybarite, if such be wanting, you can by no means build a good run if the country, that is, extent and quality of pastu^re, be wanting. A prudent buyer, therefore, does not attach much value to improvements, scrutinizing carefully the run itself as the only source of future profits. " It is a beastly hole ! " quoth Jack, as he finished his pipe, " only fit for a black fellow, or a Scotchman on his promotion ; but from what I saw of the cattle as I came along (and they tell no lies) there is no mistake about the country. They were all as fat as pigs, the yearlings and calves, as well as the aged cattle. I never saw them look like that at Marshmead, or even at Glen na Voirlich, which used to be thought the richest spot in our district. There is nothing to hinder me clearing out the whole of the herd and having ten or fifteen thousand ewes on the place before lambing time. There is no scab and no foot-rot within a colony of us. With fair luck, I could have up a woolshed in time to shear ; and a decent lambing, say 70 per cent., would give me — let me see, how many altogether after shearins: V Here Jack went into abstruse arithmetical calculations as to the numbers, sexes, ages, and value of his possible pro- perty, and, after a very rapid subtraction of cattle and 26 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM: [chap. miiltiplication of sheep, saw himself the owner of fifty thousand of the latst-uamed fashionable animals, which, when sold at twenty-five shillings per head, or even twenty- seven and sixpence (everything given in), would do very well until he should have visited Europe, and returned to commence operations upon a scale even more grand and comprehensive. " I think I see my way," he said to himself, finally, knocking the ashes out of his pipe. " Of course one must rough it at first ; the great thing in these large stock operations is decisiveness." He accordingly decided to go to bed at once, and informed Mr. Hawkesbury, the overseer, that he should be ready as soon as they could see in the morning, and so betook himself to a couch, of which the supporting portion was ingeniously constructed of strips of hide, and the mattress, bed-clothing, curtains, &c., represented by a pair of blankets evidently akin in antiquity, as in hue, to Bob the cook's trousers. Accepting his host's brief apologies. Jack turned in, and Mr. Hawkesbury, having disembarrassed himself of his boots, pulled a ragged opossum-rug over him, and lay down before the fire-place, Avith his pipe in his mouth. The coach and mail travelling, continued during two preceding days antl nights, had banged and shaken Jack's hardy frame sufficiently to induce a healthy fatigue. In two minutes he was sound asleep, and for three or four hours never turned in his bed. Then he woke suddenly, and with the moment of consciousness was enabled to realize Mr. Gulliver's experiences after the first flight of the arrows of the Liliputians. He arose swiftly, and muttering direful maledictions upon the "Warroo, and all inhabitants of its borders from source to mouth, frontage and back, myall, salt-bush, and cotton- })ush, pulled on his garments and looked around. It yet wanted three hours to daylight. INIr. Hawkesbury was sleeping like an infant. He could see the moon through a crack in the bark roof, and hear the far hoarse note of the night-bird. Taking his railway rug, ho opened the door, which creaked upon its Egyptian hinge, and walked forth. "Beautiful was the night. Beliind tlic black w.ill of fliR forest." III.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 27 And so on, as Longfellow has it in mournful Evangeline. The forest was not exactly black, being partly of the moderately-foliaged eucalyptus, and having a strip of the swaying, streaming myall, of a colour more resembling blue than black. Still there were shadows sufficiently darksome and weird in conjunction with the glittering moonbeams to appeal to the stranger's poetic sympathies. The deep, still waters of the lagoon lay like dulled silver, ever and anon stirred into ripples of wondrous brilliancy by the leaping of a fish, or the sinuous trail of a reptile or water rodent. All was still as in the untroubled seons ere discovery. In spite of the squalid surroundings and the sordid human traces, Nature had resumed her grand solitude and the majestic hush of the desert. "All this is very fine," quoth Jack to himself. " Wliat a glorious night ; but I must try and have a little more sleep somehow." He picked out a tolerably convenient spot between the buttressed roots of a vast casuarina, which from laziness rather than from taste had been spared by the ruthless axes of the pioneers, and wrapping himself in his rug lay down in the sand. The gentle murmur of the ever- sounding, mournful-sighing tree soon hushed his tired senses, and the sun was risina," as he raised himself on his elbow and looked round. It was a slightly different sleeping arrangement from those to which he had been long accustomed. ISTor were the concomitants less strange. A large pig had approached nearer than was altogether pleasant. She was evidently speculating as to the weak, defenceless, possibly edible condition of the traveller. Jack had not been conversant with the comprehensively carnivorous habits of Warroo pigs. He was, therefore, less alarmed than amused. He also made the discovery that he was no great distance from a populous ant-hill, of which, however, the free and en- lightened citizens had not as yet "gone for him." Alto- gether he fully realized the necessity for changing front, and, rising somewhat suddenly to his feet, was about to walk over to the hut when the rolling thunder of horses at speed, rapidly approaching, decided him to await the new sensation. Round a jutting point of timber a small drove of twenty or thirty horses came at a headlong go Hop in a cloud of 28 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. dust, and made straight for the stockyard in tlie direct track for which Jack's bedroom was situated. Standing close up to the old tree, which was sufficiently strong and broad to shield him, he awaited the cavalry charge. They passed close on either side, to the unaffected astonishment of an old mare, who turned her eyes upon him with a wild glare as she brushed his shoulder with her sweeping mane. Dashing into the large receiving-yard of the old stockyard, they stopped suddenly and began to walk gently about, as if fully satisfied with themselves. Following fast came two wild riders, one of whom was a slight half-caste lad, and the other, to Jack's great surprise, a black girl of eighteen or twenty. This last child of the desert rode en cavalier on an ordinary saddle with extremely rusty stirrup- irons. Her long wavy hair fell in masses over her shoulders. Her eyes were soft and large, her features by no means unpleasing, and her unsophisticated teeth white and regular. Dashing up to the slip-rails, this young person jumped oft' her horse with panther-like agility, and putting up the heavy saplings, tlius addressed Mr. Hawkes- bury, who, with Jack, had approached : — " By gum, Misser Hoxliry, you give me that horrid old mai"e to-day I ride her inside out, tJie ole brute." " What for, Wildduck 1 " inquired the overseer ; " what's she been doing now 1 " " Why, run away all over the country and l)roak half-a- dozen times, and make me and Spitfire close up dead. Look at him." Here she pointed to her steed, a small violent weed, whose wide nostril and heaving flank showed that he had been going best pace for a considerable period. " Tiiat boy, Billy Mortimer, not worth a cuss." Having volunteered this last piece of information. Wild- duck pulled off the saddle, whicli she jilaced, cnntle down- ward, against the fence, so as to permit the moistened padding to receive all drying influences of sun and air ; then, dragging off the bridle to the apparent danger of Spitfire's front teeth, she permitted that excitable cf)urser to wander at will. " That one pull my arm off close up," she remarked, " all along that ole devil of a marc. I'll take it out of h^r to- day, n)y word ! Who's this cove 1 " III.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 29 " Gentleman come up to buy station," answered Hawkes- bury ; " by and by, master belong to you ; and if you're a good girl he'll give you a new gown and a pound of tobacco. Now you get breakfast, and ride over to Jook- jook — tell'm all to meet us at the Long Camp to-morrow." " Kai-i ! " said the savage damsel, in a long-drawn plain- tive cry of surprise, as she put her fingers, with assumed shyness, up to her face, and peered roguishly through them ; then, hitching up her scanty and tattered dress, she ran off without more conversation to the hut. " Good gracious ! " said Jack to himself, " I wonder what old Elsie and Geordie Stirling would think of all this ; Moabitish women and all the rest of it, I suppose. How- ever, I am not hei-e for the present to regulate the social code of the Lower Warroo. Have you got the tribe here 1 " he said, aloud. " No, Wildduck ran away from a travelling mob of cattle," answered Hawkesbury. "She's a smart gin when she's away from grog, and a stunner at cutting out on a camp." That day passed in an exhaustive general tour round the run. Mounted upon an elderly stock-horse of unimpeach- able figure, with legs considerably the worse for wear, and provided with a saddle which caused him to vow that never again would he permit himself to be dissociated from his favourite Wilkinson, Jack was piloted by Mr. Hawkesbury through the "frontage" and a considerable portion of the " back " regions of Gondaree. It was the same story: oceans of feed, water everywhere, all the cattle rolling fat. Nothing that the most hard-hearted buyer could object to, if troubled with but a grain of conscience. Billowy waves of oat grass, wild clover (medicago sativa), and half-a-dozen strange fodder plants, of which Redgrave knew not the names, adorned the great meadows or river flats ; while out of the immense reed-beds, the feathery tassels of which stu-red in the breeze far above their heads, came ever and anon, at the crack of the stock-whip, large droves of cattle in Indian file, in such gorgeous condition that, as our hero could not refrain from saying, a dealer in fat stock might have taken tlie whole lot to market, cows, calves, bullocks and steers, without rejecting a beast. Leaving these grand savannahs, when they proceeded to 30 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. the more arid back country there was still no deterioration in the chai'acter of the pasturage. Myall and boroe belts of timber, never known to grow upon "poor" or "sour" land, alternated with far-stretching plains, where the salt- bush, the cotton-bush, and many another salsiferous herb and shrub, betokened that Elysium of the squatter, " sound fattening country." Jolin Kedgrave was charmed. He forgot the dog-hole ho had left in the morning, the fleas, the pigs, the evil habiliments of Bob the cook, the un- inviting meal, all the shocks and outrages upon his tastes and habits ; his mind dwelt only upon tlie gi'eat extent and apparently half-stocked condition of Gondaree. And as they rode home by starlight the somewhat pei'ilous stumbles of the old stock-horse only pai'tially disturbed a reverie in which a new Avool-shed, a crack wash-pen, every kind of •modern " improvement," embellished a model run, carrying fifty thousand high-caste merino sheep. He demolished his well-earned supper of corned beef and damper that night with quite another species of appetite ; and as he deposited himself in an extemporized hammock, above the reach of midnight marauders, he told himself that Gondaree was not such a bad place after all, and only wanted an owner possessed of sufficient brains to develop its great capabilities to become a pleasant, profitable, and childishly safe investment. Wildduck's mission had apparently been successful. The old mare was making oft' from the men's hut in a compara- tively exhausted state, while a chorus of voices, accented with the pervading British oath, told of the arrival of a number of friends and allies. High among the noisiest of the talkers, and, it must be confessed, by no means reticent of strong language, rose the clear tones and chihl-like laughter of the savage damsel. In tlie delicate badinage likely to obtain in such a gathering it was apparent that she could well liold her own. " My word, Johnny Dickson," she was saying to a tall, lathy stri2)ling, whose long hair protected the upper portion of his spine from all danger of sunstroke, " you get one big buster off tliat roan mare to-day ; spread all over the ground, too. Thought you was goin' to peg out a free- selection." III.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN" LIFE. 31 " You shut up, and go back to old man Jack, you black varmint," retorted the unhorsed man-at-arms amid roars of laughter. " You ain't no great choi? on a horse, except to ride him to death. I can back anything you'll tackle, or ere a black fellow between this and Adelaide. I'm half a mind to box yoiu- ears, you saucy slut." "Ha, ha," yelled the girl, '■'■you ridel that's a good un ! You not game to get on the Doctor here to-morrow, not for twenty pound. You touch me ! Why, ole Nanny fight you any day, with a yam-stick. / fight you myself, blessed if I don't." " What's all this 1" demanded Mr. Hawkesbury, suddenly appearing on the scene. *' Have any of you fellows been bringing grog on the place % Because it's a rascally shame, and I won't have it." " Well, sir," said one of the stockmen, " one of the chaps had a bottle, quite accidental like, and the gin got a suck or two. That's Avhat set her tongue goin'. But it's all gone now, and nothing broke. Which way do we go to-morrow % " " Well, I want to muster those Bimbalong Creek cattle, and then put as many as we can get on the main camp, just to give this gentleman here (indicating Jack) a sort of idea of the numbers. Daylight start, remember, so don't be losing your horses." "All right," said the self-constituted spokesman, the others merely nodding acquiescence ; " we'll short-hobble them to-night — they can't get away very far." Considerably before daylight beefsteaks were frying, horses were being gathered up, and a variety of sounds proclaimed that when bent upon doing a day's work the dwellers around Gondaree could set about it in an energetic and business-like fashion. There was not a streak of crim- son in the pearly dawn-light, as the whole jmrty, comprising more than a dozen men and the redoubtable Wildduck, I'ode silently along the indistinct trail which led " out back." There was a good deal of smoking and but little talk for the first hour. After that time converse became more general, and the pace was improved at a suggestion from Mr. Hawkesbury that the sooner they all got to the scene of their woik the better, as it was a pretty good day's ride there and back. 32 THE SQUATTER'S DREAjSI : [ciiAr. " So it is," answered a hard, weather-beaten-looking, grizzled stockman. *' I never see such a jiart of the country as this. If it was in other colonies l'\ e been to they'd have had a good hut, and yards, and a horse-paddock at Bimba- long this years back. But they wouldn't spend a ten pound note or two, those Sydney merchants, not for to save the lives of every stockman on the Warroo." " lliat wouldn't be much of a loss, Jingaree," said the overseer, laughing, while a sort of sardonic smile went the round of the com2)any, as if they appreciated the satire ; "and I shouldn't blame 'em if that was the worst of it. But it's a loss to themselves, if they only knew it. All they can say is, plenty of money has been made on old Gondaree, as bad as it is. I hope the next owner will do as well — and better." " Me think 'um you better git it back to me and ole man Jack," suggested Wildduck, now restored to her usual state of coolness and self-possession. *' Ole man Jack own Gon- dai-ee water-hole by lights. Everybody say Gondaree people live like black fellows. What for you not give it us back again ? " " Well, I'm blowed," answei'ed the overseer, aghast at the audacious proposition ; "what next? No, no, Wildduck. We've improved the country." Here the stockmen grinned. " Besides, you and old man Jack Avoukl go and knock it down. You ain't particular to a few glasses of grog, you know, Wildduck." " White fellow learn us thai," answered the girl, sul- lenly, and the "chase rode on." In rather less than three hours the party of horsemen had I'eached a narrow reed-fringed watercourse, the line of whicli was marked by dwarf eucalypti, no specimens of which had been encountered since they left the homestead. Here they halted for a while upon a sand-ridge pic- turesquely wooded witli the })right green ai-rowy pine {ail- lliris), and, after a short smoke, iMr. Hawke.sbuiy proceeded to make a disposition of forces. "Tliree fif you go up the creek till you get to ilu^ other side of Long Plain, thei'o's mostly a mol) somewhere about there. You'll see a big brindle Indlock ; if you get him you've got tlie leading mob. Jingaree, you can start ; take III.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 33 •Johnson and Billy Mortimer with you. Charley Jones, you beat up the myall across the creek ; take Jackson and Long Bill. Four of you go out back till you come to the old Dui'gah boundary ; you'll know it by the sheep-tracks, confound them. Waterton, you come with me, and Mr. Redgrave will take the Fishery mob. Wildduck, you too, it will keep you out of mischief, and you can have a gallop after the buffalo cows' mob, and show off a bit." "All right," answered the sable scout, showing her brilliant teeth, and winding the stock-whip round her head with practised hand she made Spitfire jump all fours off the ground, and proceed sideways, and even tail foremost (as is the manner of excitable steeds), for the next quarter of a mile. Every section of the party having " split and squandered " according to orders, which were, like those of a captain at cricket or football, unhesitatingly obeyed, Jack found him- self proceeding parallel with the creek, with Mr. Hawkes- bury as companion, followed by a wiry, sun-tanned Aust tralian lad and Miss Wildduck aforesaid. It was still early. They had ridden twenty miles, and the day's work was only commencing. Always fond of this particular description of station-work, John Redgrave looked with the keen eye of a bushman, and something of the poet's fancy, upon the scene. Eastward the sun-rays were lighting up a limitless ocean of grey plain, tinged with a delicate tone of green, while the hazy distance, precious in that land of hard outlines and too brilliant colouring, was passing from a stage of tremulous gold to the fierce splendour of the desert noon. There was not a hill within a hundred miles. The level sky-line was unbroken as on the deep, or where the Arab camel kneels by the far- seen plumy palms. The horses stepped along briskly. The air was dry and fresh. The element of grandeur and unimpeded territorial magnificence told powerfully upon John's sanguine natui'e. " I don't care what they say," he thought. " This is a magnificent country, and I believe would carry no end of sheep, if properly fenced and managed. I flatter myself I shall make such a change as will astonish the oldest and. many other inhabitants. Following the water, they rode quietly onward until, near D 84 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM. [ch. hi. a bend of tlie humble but enormously important streamlet, they descried the " Fishery," of which Hawkesbury had spoken. This was a ruinous and long deserted " weir," formed of old by the compatriots of Wildduck, for the ensnaring of eels and such fish as might ])e left disporting themselves in the Bimbalong after a flood of unusual height. At such periods the outer meres and back creeks received a portion of the larger species of fish which habitually reposed in the still, deep waters of the Warroo. Traces could still be seen of a labyrinth of artificial channels, dams, and reservoii'S, showing considerable ingenuity, and distinct evidence of more continuovis labour than the aboriginal Australian is generally credited with. CHAPTER IV. '* Ye seeken loud and see for your winniDges." — Ohaucer. " My word," exclaimed Wildduck, jumping from her horse and gazing at the rare ruin of her fading race, " this big one fishery one time. Me come here like it picaninny. All about black fellow that time. Bullo — bullo." Here she spread out her hands, as if to denote an altogether immeasurable muster-i-oll of warriors. " Big one corrobaree — shake 'em ground all about ; and old man Coradjee too." Here she sank her voice into an awe-stricken whisper. " Where are they all gone, Wildduck % " inquired Red- grave ; " along a Warroo 1 " '' Along a Warroo 1 " cried the girl, mockingly. " Worse than that. White fellow shoot 'em like possum. That ole duffer, Morgan, shoot fader belonging to me." " Come, come, Wildduck," said Hawkesbury, " we're after cattle just now — never mind about old Mindai. It wasn't one, nor yet two, white fellows only that /te picked the bones of, if all the yarns are true." " You think I no care, because I'm black," said the girl, reproachfully, as the tears rolled down her dusky cheeks. " I very fond of my poor ole fader. — ^ Hallo ! there's cattle — come along, Watei'ton." " Changing the subject with a vengeance," thought Red- grave, as the mercurial mourner, with all the fickleness of her race, superadded to that of her sex, looked back a laughing challenge to the stockman, and closing her heels upon the eager pony, was at top speed in about three strides. Looking in the direction of Spitfire's outstretched neck, Redgrave and D 2 36 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [riiAP. his companion could descry a long dark line of moving objects at a considerable distance on the plain, but whether horses, cattle, or even a troop of emu, they were unable to make out with certainty. " Let's back her up quietly," said Hawkesbury. ' She and Charley will head them ; it's no use bustin' our horses. This is rather a flash mob, but they'll be all right when they're wheeled once or twice." Keeping on at a steady hand-gallop, they soon came up with a large lot of cattle going best pace in the wrong direction. The accomplished Wildduck, however, flew round them like a falcon. Spitfire doing his mile in re- markably fair time. Being ably sujjported by Waterton, the absconders were rounded up, and were ready to return and be forgiven, when Hawkesbury and Mr. Redgrade joined them. " By Jove ! " cried our hero, with unconcealed approval, " what grand condition all the herd seem to be in ! Look at those leaders." Here he pointed to a string of great raking five and six year old bullocks, whose immense frames, a little coarse, but well grown and symmetrical, were filled up to the uttermost point of development. " You don't seem to have drafted them very closely." " No," said Hawkesbury, carelessly. " We never send anything away that isn't real prime, and we missed this mob last year. They get their time at Goudaree ; and the last two seasons have been stunning good ones." " Don't you always have good seasons, then 1 " asked Jack, innocently. The overseer looked sharply at him for a moment, without answering, and then said — " Well, not always, it depends upon the rain a good deal ; not but what there's always plenty of back-water on this run." " Oh ! I dare say it makes a difference in this dry countiy," returned Jack, carelessly, thinking of IMarshmead, where it used to rain sometimes from INIarch to Noveml)er, almost witliout cessation, and where a montli's fine weather was hailed as a distinct advantage to the sodden pasturage. " But the rain never does anything but good here, I supposa" " Nothinir but ffood, vou mav sav tliat, when it does come. IV.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 37 This lot won't be long getting to camp. Ha ! I can hear Jingaree's and the other fellows' whips going." By this time they had nearly reached the camp at which the various scouting parties had separated. They had nothing to do but to follow the drove, which, after the manner of well-broken station herds of the olden time, never relaxed speed until they reached the camp, when they stopped of their own accord, and while recovering their wind moved gently to and fro, greeting friends or strangers with appro- priately modulated bellowings. Much about the same time the other parties of stockmen could be seen coming towards the common centre, each following a lesser or a greater drove. Jingaree had been fortunate in " dropping across " his lot earlier in the day, and was in peaceful possession of the camp and an undis- turbed smoke long before they arrived. Mr. Redgrave rode through the fifteen or sixteen hundred there assembled by himself, the stockmen meanwhile sitting sideways on their horses, or otherwise at ease, while he made inspection. " I should like to have had a lot like this at the Lost Water-hole Camp, at poor old Marshmead," thought Jack to himself, " for old Rooney, the dealei-, to pick from, when I used to sell to him. How he and Geordie would have gone cutting out by the hour. They would have almost forgot- ten to quarrel. Why, there isn't a poor beast on the camp except that cancered bullock." When he had completed a leisurely progress through the panting, staring, but non-aggressive multitude, he rejoined Mr. Hawkesbury, with the conviction strongly established in his mind that he had never seen so many really fat cattle in one camp before, and that the country that would do that with a coarse, neglected herd would do anything. Mr. Hawkesbury having asked him whether he wanted to see anything more on that camp, and receiving no answer in the negative, gave orders to " let the cattle go," and the party, proceeding to the bank of the creek, permitted their steeds to graze at will with the reins trailing under their feet, after the manner of stock-horses, and addressed themselves to such moderate refreshment, in the form of junks of corned beef and wedges of damper, as they had brought with them. Mr. 38 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. TIawkesbury produced a sufficient quantity for himself and his guest, who found that the riding, the admiration, and the novel experience had -whetted his appetite. Fau-ly well earned was the hour's rest by the reeds of the creek. Hawkesbury had at ih-st thought of putting together the greater part of the herd, but on reflection concluded that the day was rather far advanced. They were twenty miles from home. It would be as well to defer the collection of the cattle belonging to the main camp until the following day. In a general way it might be thought that a ride of forty miles, exclusive of two or three hours' galloping at camp, was a fair day's work. So it would have appeared, doubtless, to the author of Guy Livingstone, who in one of his novels describes the hero and his good steed as being in a condition of extreme exhaustion after a ride of thirty miles. Wliyte Melville, too, who handles equally well pen, brand, and bridle, finds the horses of Gilbert and his friend in Good for Nothing, or All Down Hill, reduced to such an " enfeebled condition " by sore backs, con.sequeiit upon one day's kangaroo-hunting, that they are compelled to send a messenger for fresh horses a hundred miles or more to Sydney, and to await his i-eturn in camj). With all deference to, and sympathy Avith, the humanity which probal)ly prompted so mercifully moderate a chronicle, we must assert that to these gifted writers little is known of the astonishing feats of speed and endurance performed by the ordinary Australian horse. Hawkesbury, indeed, ratVier grumbled when the party arrived at Gondaree at what he considered an indifferent day's work. Ho, his men, and their horses would have thought it nothing " making a song aboot," as Rob lioy says, to have ridden to Bimbalong, camped the cattle, " cut out " or drafted, on horseback, a couple of hundred head of fat l)ull()cks, and to have brought the lot safe to Gondaree stock- yard by mooiiliglit. Tliis would liave involved about twenty hours' riding, a large proportion of the work being done at full ^'allop, and dmiiig the hottest part of the day. lUit they /<«(/ done it many a time and often. And neither the grass- fed horses, the cattle, nor the careless horsemen were a whit the worse for it. ll(>W(.'Vei-,as Mr. Ilawkesbiuvliail truly stated in tbeirtir.st . IV.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 39 interview, the economy of time was by no means a leading consideration on the Warroo. So the next day was devoted to the arousing and parading of the stock within reach of the main camp. Mr. Redgrave's opinion, as to the number and general value of the herd after this operation, was so satisfactory that on the moiTow he once more committed himself to the tender mercies of the Warroo mail, and proceeded incontinently to the metropolis, where he without further demur concluded the bargain, and became the first proud purchaser of Gondaree, and five thousand head of mixed cattle, to be taken " by the books." Jack found the ckib a paradise after his sojourn in the wiluerness. At that time comparatively few men had explored the terra incognita of Riverina with a view to personal settlement. Therefore Jack's fame as a man of daring enterprise and commercial sagacity rose steadily until it reached a most respectable altitude in the social barometer. He alluded but sparingly to the privations and perils of his journey, making up for this reticence by glowing descriptions of the fattening qualities and vast extent of his newly- acquired territory. He aroused the envy of his old com- panions of the settled districts, and was besieged with appli- cations from the relatives of wholly inexperienced youths from Britain, and other youngsters of Australian rearing, who had had more experience than was profitable, to take them back with him as a,ssistants. These offers he was prudent enough to decKne. His cash had been duly paid down, and the name of John Redgrave attached to sundry bills at one and two years — bearing interest at eight per cent. — the whole piu'chase- money being about twenty thousand pounds, with right of brand, stock-horses, station-stores, implements, and furnitiu'e given in. What was given in, though it cost some hard bargaining and several telegrams, was not of great value. Among the twenty stock-horses there were about two sound ones. The stores consisted of three bags of flour, half a bag of sugar, and a quarter of a chest of tea. There was an old cart and some harness, of which only the green hide portion was " i-eliable." Several iron buckets, which served indiffer- ently for boiling meat and carrying the moderate supplies of water needed or, more correctly used on the establishment. 40 THE SQUATTER'S DREAJI : [chap. Of the three saddles, but one Avas station property. The others belonged to ISIr. Hawkesbury and the stockman. Jack had decided to take the cattle at five thousand head ■without muster, being of opinion, from the " look of the herd," and from a careful inspection of the station-books, wherein the brandings had been carefully registered, and a liberal percentage allowed for deaths and losses, that the number was on the run. He knew from experience that a counting muster was a troublesome and injurious operation, and that it was better to lose a few head than to knock the whole herd about. He therefore made all necessary arrangements for going up and taking immediate possession of Gondaree. His plan of operations, well considered and carefully calcu- lated, was this : He had sternly determined upon " clearing off " the whole of the cattle. Sheep wei^e the only stock fit for the consideration of a large operator. For cattle there could be only the limited and surely decreasing local demand. For sheep, that is, for wool, you had the world for a market. Wool inifjht fall ; but, like gold, its fashion was universal. Every man who wore a Crimean shirt, every woman who wore a magenta petticoat, was a constituent and a contributor ; the die was cast. He was impatient of the very idea of cattle as an investment for a man of ordinary foresight. He was not sure whether he would even be bothered with a score or two for milkers. To this end he now directed all his energies ; and being aljle to work, as Bertie Tunstall had truly observed, when he liked, now that he was excited by the pi'es.sure of a great undertaking — an advance along the whole line of his forces, so to speak — he displayed certain qualities of generalship. He first made a very good sale of all the fat cattle on the run (binding the buyer to take a number which Avould give the herd " a scraping ") to his old ac(iuaintanco Rooney, the cattle-dealer. These wei'e to be removed within two months from date of sale. He left instructions with his agents, Messrs. Drawe and Backwell, to sell the whole of the reinaining portion of the hei-d (rosorving only twenty ijiiikers) as store cattle, to any one who was slow and old- fashioned enough to desire them. He bought and despatched stores, of a <|nMliiy and variety rather different from what he received, suilicient to last for twelve nioiilhs ; all the fittings IV.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 41 and accessories for a cottage and for a wool-shed, including nails, iron roofing, doors, sashes — everything, in fact, except the outer timber, which could be procured on the spot. He had no idea of trusting himself to the war- prices of the inland store-keepers. A few tons of wire for preliminary fencing, wool-bales, tools, a dray, carts, an earth- scocip for dam-making, well-gearing and sixty-gallon buckets, a few tents, plough and harrow (must have some hay), a few decent horses, an American waggon with four-horse harness, and other articles " too numerous to mention," abovit this time found themselves on the road to Gondaree. All these trifling matters " footed up " to a sum which gave a temporarily reflective expression to Jack's open countenance. Necessaries for a sheep-station, especially in the process of conversion from cattle ditto, have a way of coming out strong in the addition department. " What of that 1 " demanded Jack of his conscience, or that quiet cousin-german, prudence ; "a sheep-station must be properly worked, or not at all. The first year's wool will pay for it all. And then the lambs ! " In order to manage a decent-sized sheep property (and nothing is so expensive as a small one), you must have an overseer. Jack was not going to be penny-lunatic enough to be his own manager. And the right sort of man must be thoroughly up to all the latest lights and discoveries • — not a woi-king overseer, a rough, upper-shepherd sort of individual who counted sheep and helped to make bush-yards, but a fairly-educated modern species of centurion, whose in- telligence and knowledge of stock (meaning sheep) were com- bined with commercial shrewdness and military power of combination. A man who could tell you in a few minutes how much a dam displacing several thousand cubic yards of earth ought to cost ; how many men, in what number of days, should complete it ; what provisions they ought to consume ; and what wages, working reasonably, they ovight to earn. A man full of the latest information as to spouts and soda, hot water and cold, with a natural turn heightened by experience, for determining the proportionate shades of fineness, density, freeness, and length of staple which, in combination, could with safety be taken as a model for the ideal merino. A man capable of sketching, with accuracy 42 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [ciixT. and foretliought, the multifarioiis buildings, enclosures, and " improvements " necessaiy for a sheep-station in the first year of its existence, or of conducting the shearing to a successful issue without them at need. For subalterns so variously gifted a demand had of late years grown up, owing to the large profits and wonderful development of the wool-producing interest. Of one of these highly-certificated " competition-wallahs " John Redgrave had determined to possess himself. In Mr. Alexander M'Nab,late of Strathallan, and formerly of Mount Gresham, he deemed that he had secured one of the most promising and highly-trained specimens of the type. Sandy M'Nab, as he was generally called, was about eight-and-twenty years of age, the son of a small but respectable farmer in the north of Ireland, in which condition of life he had acquired an early knowledge of stock, and an exceedingly sound rudimentary education. Far too ambitious to content himself with the limited progi'amme of las forefathers, he had emigrated at sixteen, and worked his way up through the various stages of Australian bush apprenticeship, until he had i-eached his present grade, from which he trusted to pass into the ranks of the Squatocracy. Having secured this valuable functionary, and covenanted to pay liim at the late of three hundred per anniun, his first act was to despatch liim, after a somewhat lengthy consultation, to inspect a small lot of ten thousand ewes, and on approval to liire men and bring them to Gondaree. It was necessary to lose no time ; lambing would be on in June, in August sheai'ing would be imminent. And the cattle would nHjuiro to be off, and the sheep to be on, somewhere about April, if the first year's operations wei'e to have any chance of being linaucially successful. Tlie stores having been purchased, and Mr. M'Nab with his letter of credit having been shipped, that alert lieutenant, with characteristic promjititude, reporting himself in readiness to eml)ark at six hours' notice, nothing remained but for Mr. Redgrave to " render himself " again at Gondaree in the capacity of piu'chaser. lie accordingly cleared out from the club with IV.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 43 alarmingly stern self-denial, and, declining to risk his important existence in the Warroo mail, took the road in the light American waggon, with his spare horses and a couple of active lads accustomed to bush work. After a journey of ordinary duration and absence of adventure, he once more sighted the unromantic but priceless waters of the Warroo, and beheld, with the eye of a proprietor, the "waste lands of the Crown" — most literally deserving that appellation — with the full right and title to which, as lessee, he stood invested. Mr. Hawkesbuiy, in apparently the same Crimean shirt, with black and scarlet in alternate bars, stood smoking the small myall pipe in much the same attitude at the liut door as when Jack was borne off by two jibs and a bolter in the Warroo mail. Bob the cook, the dark hues of his apparel unrelieved by any shade of scarlet, appeared in his doorway with his hands in his pockets, bvit betraying unwonted interest as the cortege ascended the sandhill. Ordering the boys to let go the horses, and to pitch the tent, which he had used on the journey, at a safe distance from the huts. Jack descended with a slight increase of dignity, as of one in authority, and greeted his predecessor. " So you've bought us out," he said, after inspecting carefully the letter which Jack handed to him, " and I'm ordered to deliver over the cattle, and the stores,^ — there ain't much of them, — and the horses, and in fact the whole boiling. Well, I wish you luck, sir ; the run's a good 'un and no mistake, and the cattle are pretty fair, considering what's been done for 'em. I suppose you won't want me after you've taken delivery." " I shall be very glad if you will stay on," quoth Jack, whose honest heart felt averse to ousting any man from a home, " until the cattle are cleared off ; after that I shall have another gentleman in charge of the sheep and place generally. By staying two or three months you will oblige me, if it suits your arrangements." " All right," answered Mr. Hawkesbmy : " I know the cattle pretty well, and I dare say I can save as many as will cover my wages. I think you'll find them muster up pretty close to their book-number." The signal shot of the campaign was fired, so to speak. 44 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. upon the arrival of Mr. John liooney, who came in a few days by appointment to take the first draft of the Gondaree fat cattle. Jack was sitting outside of his tent, like an Arab sheik, and thinking regretfully of the flower-laden evening breeze which lie had so often inhaled at the same hour at Marsh- mead, when a tall, soldierly-looking man rode up on a tired horse and jumped oil' with an unreserved exclamation of relief. " Hallo ! Rooney, is that you, in this uncivilized part of the world ? Eather different from the old place, isn't it ! Come in, and I'll have your horse hobbled out. You mustn't expect stables or paddock or any other luxuries on the Warroo." " Sure, I know it well — my heavy curse on the same river ; there never was any dacency next or anigh it Didn't they lend me a buck-jumper at Morahgil to-day, and the first jdace I found myself was on the broad of my back." " What a shame ! Did they give you another horse 1 " " They did not. I rode the same devil light through. It's little bucking he feels inclined for now." " So 1 should think, after an eighty-mile ride. Wlien did you leave ? " " About twelve o'clock. I was riding all night, and got there to l)renkfaRt. The last time I took cattle from Morahgil I liappHiied to knock down the superintendent with a roping jiole, maybe that's why he treated me so — tli(> mane blayguard." " Well, he ouglit not to have let such a trifle dwell on his mind, perhaps. But take a glass of giog, liooney, while the fellow gets your tea." " Faitli. and I will, Masther John ; and it's sound I'll sleep to-night, iicas or no ilcas. A man can't do without it for more than tliree nights at a time." In a few days the muster was duly concluded, and three hundred prime bulldcks secured in the ancient but massive stockyard. One of llooney's drovers and a couple of road hands liad arrived the evening before, to wliom they were intrust I'd. I'ooney was too great a man to be able to jill'ord the time to travel with his own cattle, and had, indeed, a score of other mobs to meet, despatch, buy, or IV ] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 45 sell, to arrive in as many different and distant parts of the colony. " Well, Masther John," said he, " I won't deny that I haven't lifted a finer mob this season. Isn't it a murther- ing fine run, when it puts the beef on them big-boned divils like that ? If ye had some of those roan steers we used to get at the Lost Waterhole Camp, sure they wouldn't be able to see out of their eyes with fat. I'll he able to get the eight hundred out of these aisy enough. I'll send Joe Best for the cows and the rest of the bullocks the moment he's shut of those circle-dot cattle. I must be off down the river. I've a long ride before me. But, Masther John, see here now, don't be building too much on the saysons in these parts. It's not like Marshmead ; I've seen it all as bare as a brickfield, from the Warroo to the Oxley ; and these very cattle with their ribs up to their back- bones, and dyin' by hundreds. D'ye hear me now 1 Don't be spending all your money before ye see how prices are going. I'm thinking we'll see a dale of changes in the next three or four years — all this racin' and jostlin' for breeding sheep can't hould out. Good-bye, sir." And so the kindly, stalwart, shrewd cattle dealer went on his way, and Jack saw him no more for a season. But his warning words left an impression of doubt and distrust upon the mind of his hearer that no caution had previously had power to do. Was it possible that he had made a mistake, and an irrevocable one 1 Was such a change in the seasons credible, and could all his stretch of luxuriant prairie turn into dust and ashes 1 It was im- possible. He had known bad seasons, or thought he had, in the old west country ; he had seen grass and water pretty scarce, and had a lower average of fat cattle in some seasons than others ; but as to any total disappearance of pasture, any ruinous loss of stock, such he had never witnessed and was quite unable to realize. CHAPTER V. *' So many days my ewes have been with young ; So many weeks ere the poor fools will can ; So many years ere I shall shear the lleece." — King Henry VI. Jack had soon qnito enough \ipon his hands to occupy him for every -waking houi- and moment, to fatigue his body, and, consequently, to lay to rest any obtrusive doubts or fears as to the ultimate success of his undertaking. The stores began to arrive, and he had to fix a site for the new cottage and the indispensable wool-shed. The former locality he selected at Steamboat Point, before alluded to by Mr. Hawkesbury, which was a bluff near a deep reach of the river, shaded by couba trees and river-oaks of great age, and at an elevation far above the periodical Hoods which from time to time swept the lowlands of the Warroo, and converted its sluggish tide into a fui'ious devastating torrent. Sawyers wei-e engaged, carpenters, splitters, and labourers generally. "With these, as, indeed, with all the station employes, much conflict had to be gone through as to prices of contract and labour. A new propi-ietor was looked upon as a person of limited intelligence, l)ut altogether of boundle.ss wealth, which, in greater or less degree, each " old hand " believed it his privilege to share. It Avas held to be an act of meanness and unjustifiable parsimony for one in his position to expect to have work done at the same rate as other people. Jack had much trouble in dis- abusing them of this superstition. Eventually it came to be admitted that " the cove knew his way about," and " had seen a thing or two before ; " after which matters went more smoothly. Then letters came from TJrawe and Backwell stating that a largo ojierator, witli a million of acres or so of new country, where •' the blacks were too h.u\ for sheep," had bought CH. v.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 47 the whole of the herd, after Rooney had done di^afting, and was ready to take delivery without delay. In due time all this hard and anxious work was accom- plished. Mr. Joe Best returned and possessed himself of every fat bullock and every decent cow " without incum- brance " on the place. And then the long-resident Gondaree herd — mvich lowing, and fully of oj^inion, jvidged by its demeanour, that the end of the world was come — was violently evicted and driven off from its birth- place in three great droves by a small army of stockmen and all the dogs within a hundred miles. So the cattle were " cleared off," at low prices too, as in after days Jack had occasion to remember. But nobody bought store cattle in that year except as a sort of personal favour. Nothing better could be expected. " Well — so they're mustered and gone at last," said Hawkesbury, the day after the last engagement. " Blest if I didn't think some of us would lose the number of our mess. Those old cows would eat a man — let alone skiver him. The herd came up well to their number in the books, didn't they 1 Thei-e was more of those Bimbalong cattle than I took 'em to be. Well, there's been a deal of money took off this run since I came — next to nothing spent either ; that's what I look at. I hope the sheep-racket will do as well, sir." " I hope so, too, Hawkesbury," answered Jack. " One good season with sheep is generally said to be worth three with cattle. I had a letter to-day from M'lSTab to say that he was on the road with the ewes, and would be here early next month." " Well, then, I'll cut my stick ; you won't want the pair of us, and I'm not much to do with sheep, except putting the dogs on old Boxall's whenever I've caught 'em over their boundary. You'll have to watch Iiim, if you get mixed, or you'll come short." " Every sheep of mine will be legibly fire-branded," said Jack, with a certain pride ; " there's no getting over that, you know" " He'll fire-brand too," said Hawkesbury, " in the same place, quick. And as his ear-mark's a close crop, and he's not particular what ear, his shepherds might easy make any stray lots uncommon like their own." 48 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. " By Jove ! " said Jack, rather startled at the new light thrown on sheep management on the Warroo. " However M'Kab will see to that ; he's not an easy man to get round, they say. Then, woidd you really prefer to leave ? If so, I'll make out your account." " If you please, Mr. Eedgrave. I've been up here five years now ; so I think I'll go down the country, and see my people for a bit of change. It don't do to stay in these parts too long at a time, unless a man wants to turn into a black fellow or a lushington." On the very day mentioned in his latest despatch, Mr. M'Nab arrived Avith his ten thousand ewes ; and a very good lot they Avere — in excellent condition too. He had nosed out an unfrequented back track, where the feed was unspoiled by those marauding bands of " condottieri," travelling sheep. Water had been plentiful, so that the bold stroke was suc- cessful. Pitching his tent in a sheltered spot, he sat up half the night busy with pen and pencil, and by breakfast time had every account made out, and all his supernumeraries ready to be paid off. The expenses of the joiu-ney, with a tabulated statement showing the exact cost per sheep of the expedition, wei-e also ujjon a separate sheet of paper handed up to his employer. From this time foith all went on with unslackening and successful progress. M'Nab was in his glory, and went forth rejoicing each day, planning, calculating, ordering, and arranging to his heart's content. The out-stations were chosen, the flocks drafted and apportioned, a ration- carrier selected, bush-yards made, while, simultaneously, the cottage walls began to arise on Steamboat Point, and the site of the wool-shed, on a plain bordering an ana-branch sufficient for wuter, but too inconsiderable for flood, was, after careful consideration, linally decided upon. Tlie season was very favourable ; rain fell seasonably and plentifully ; grass was abundant, and the sheep fattened up " hand over hand " witliout a susjiicion of foot-rot, or any of the long train of ailments which tlie fascinating, profitable, but too suscei)ti])le merino so often affects. The iiKdc Jack saw of his new manager the more he liked and re.sjiL-cted him. He felt almost humiliated as he noted his perfect mastery of every detail connected with station v.j A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 49 {i.e. sheep) management, his energy, his forecast, his rapid and easy arrangement of a hundred jarring details, and re- flected that he had purchased the invaluable services of this gifted personage for so moderate a consideration. " We shall not have time to get up a decent wool-shed this year, Mr. Eedgrave," he said, at one of their first councils. " We must have a good, substantial store, as it won't do to have things of value lying about. A small room alongside will do for me till we get near shearing. We must knock up a temporary shed with hurdles and calico, and wash the best way we can in the creek. Next year we can go in for spouts, and all the rest of it, and I hope we'll be able to shear in such a shed as the Warroo has never seen yet." " It's a good while to Christmas," said Jack. " How about the shed if we put more men on 1 I don't like make-shifts." " Couldn't possibly be done in the time," answered Mr. M'lSTab, with prompt decision. " Lambing will keep us pretty busy for two months. We must have shearing over by October, or all this clover-burr that I see about will be in the wool, and out of your pocket to the tune of about thi*eepence a pound. Besides, these sawyers and bush-carpenters can't be depended upon. They might leave us in the lurch, and then we should neither have one thing nor the other." "Very well," said Jack, "I leave that part of it to you." All Mr. M'Nab's plans and prophecies had a fashion of succeeding, and verifying themselves to the letter. Appar- ently he forgot nothing, superintended everything, trusted nobody, and coerced, persuaded, and placed everybody like pawns on a chess-board. His temper was wonderfully under command ; he never bullied his underlings, but had a way of assui"ing them that he was afraid they wovildn't get on to- gether, supplemented on continued disapproval by a calm order to come in and get their cheque. This system was found to be efiicacious. He always kept a spare hand or two, and was thereby enabled to fill up the place of a deserter at a moment's notice. Thus, with the aid of M'Nab and of a good season, John Redgrave, diu-ing the first year, prospered exceedingly. His sheep had a capital increase, and nearly eight thousand game- some, vigorous lambs followed their mothers to the wash- £ 50 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. pool. The wool was got off clean, and wonderfully clear of dirt and seed ; and just before shearing Mr. M'Nab exhibited a specimen of his peculiar talents which also brought grist to the mill. It happened in this wise : — Looking over the papers one evening he descried mention of a lot of store sheep then on their way to town, and on a line of road which would bring them near to Gondaree. " This lot would suit us very well, Mr. Redgrave," said he, looking up from his paper, and then taking a careful tran- script in his pocket-book of their ages, numbers, and sexes. " Seven thousand altogether — five thousand four and six tooth wethers, with a couple of thousand ewes ; if they are good-framed sheep, with decent fleeces, and the ewes not too old, they w'ould pay well to bviy on a six months' bill. AVe could take the wool off and have them fat on these Bimbalong plains by the time the bill comes due." " How about seeing them 1 " quoth Jack ; " they may be Queensland sheep, with wool about half an inch long. They often shear them late on pm'pose when they are going to start them on the road. ' They're a simple people,' as Sam Slick says, those Queen slanders." " Of course I must see them," answered M'Nab. " I never buy a pig in a poke ; but they will be within a hun- dred miles of us in a week, and I can ride across and see them, and find out their idea of price. Shearing is always an expensive business, and the same plant and hands will do for double our number of sheep, if we can get them at a price." M'Nab carried out his intention, and, falling across the caravan in an accidental kind of way, extracted full particulars from the owner, a somewhat irascible old fellow, who was convoying in person. He returned with a favourable report. The sheep were good sheep ; they hail well-grown fleeces, rather coarse ; but that did not matter with fattening sheep ; they were large and would make good wethers when topped up. The ewes were pretty fair, and not broken-mouthed. They wanted eleven shillings all round, and they were in the hands of I^ay and Burton, the stock agents. " Now, I've boon thinking," said Mr. M'Nab, meditatively, " whether it wonhlii't pay for me to run dcnvn to Melbourne v.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 51 by the mail — it passes to morrow morning — and arrange the whole thing with Day and Burton. Writing takes an awful long time. Besides, I might knock sixpence a head off, and that would pay for my coach-fare and time, and a good deal over. Seven thousand sixpences ar-e one hundred and seventy- five pounds. Thirty pounds would take me there and back, inside of three weeks." " That will only allow you two days in town," said Jack, "and you'll be shaken to death in that beastly mail-cai-t." "Never mind that," said the burly son of the "black north," stretching his sinewy frame. " I can stand a deal of killing. Shall I go?" " Oh, go by all means, if you think you can do any good. I don't envy you the journey." M'Nab accordingly departed by the mail next morning, leaving Jack to carry on the establishment in his absence, a responsibility which absorbed the whole of his waking hours so completely that he had no time to think of anything but sheep and shepherds, with an occasional dash of dingo. One forenoon, as he was waiting for his midday meal, having ridden many a mile since daylight, he descried a small party approaching on foot which he was puzzled at first to classify. He soon discovered them to be aboriginals. First walked a tall, white-haired old man, carrying a long fish-spear, and but little encumbered with wearing apparel. After him a gin, not by any means of a " suitable age " (as people say in the case of presumably marriageable widowers), then two lean, toothless old beldames of gins staggering under loads of blankets, camp furniture, spare weapons, an iron pot or two, and a few puppies ; several half-starved, mangy dogs followed in a string. Finally, the whole party advanced to within a few paces of the hut and sat solemnly down, the old savage sticking his spear into the earth previously with great deliberation. As the little group sat silently in their places bolt upright, like so many North American Indians, Jack walked down to open proceedings. The principal personage was not without an air of simple dignity, and was very different of aspect from the dissipated and debased beggars which the younger blacks of a tribe but too often become. He was evidently of great age, but Jack could see no means of divining whether seventy E 2 52 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [cuap. years or u hundred and twenty would be tlie more correct approximation. His dark and furrowed countenance, seamed witli innumerable wrinkles, resembled that of a graven image. His hair and beard, curling and abundant, were white as snow. His eye was bright, and as he smiled with childish good humour it was ap2)arent that the climate so fatal to the incisors and bicus})ids of the Avhite invader, had spared the larger proportion of his grinders. On Jack's desiring to know liis pleasure, he smiled cheerfully iigain, and muttering "baal dalain," motioned to the yomiger female, as if desiring her to act as interpreter. She was muliled up in a large opossum- rug which concealed the greater part of her face ; but as she said a few words in a plaintive tone, and with a great affecta- tion of shyness, Jack looking at her for the first time recog- nized the brilliant eyes and mischievous countenance of his old acquaintance Wildduck. "So it's you?" he exclaimed, much amused, upon which the whole party grinned responsively, the two old women particularly. " And is this your grandfather, and all your grandmothers ; and what do you want at Gondaree 1 " " This my husband, cooley belonging to me — ole man Jack," explained Wildduck, with an air of matronly propriety. " Ole man Jack, he wantim you let him stay long a wash-pen shearing time. He look out sheep no drown. Swim fust rate, that ole man." " Well, I'll see," replied Jack, who had heard M'Nab say a black fellow or two would be liandy at the wash-pen — the sheep having rather a long swim. " You can go and cami) down there by the water. How did you come to marry such an old fellow, eh, Wildduck ? " " My fader give me to him when I picaninny. Ippai and Kapothra, I s'pos. Llack fellow always marry likit that. White girl baal marry ole man, eh. Mi-. Kedgrave 1 " " Never ; that is, not unless he's very rich, Wildduck. Here's a tig cjf tobacco. Go to the store and get some tea and sugar, and flour-." Old man Jack and his lawful but by no means mono- gamous household, were permitted to camp at the Wash-pen Creek, in readiness for the somewhat heavy list of casualties which " tliiowiiig in " always involves. A sheep encumbered witli .1 bt'avy fleece, and exhausted by a protracted immersion, v.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 53 often contrives to drown as suddenly and perversely as a Lascar. Nothing short of the superior aquatic resources of a savage prevents heavy loss occa.sionally. So Mr. Redgrave, averse in a general way, for reasons of state, to having native camps on the station, yet made a compromise in this instance. A few sheets of bark were stripped, a few bundles of grass cut, a few pieces of dry wood dragged up by old Nanny and Maramie, and the establishment was complete. A short half- hour after, and there was a cake baked on the coals, hot tea in a couple of very black quart jjots, while the odours of a roasted opossum, and the haunch of wallaby, were by no means without temptation to fasting wayfarers with unso- phisticated palates. As old man Jack sat near the cheerful fire, with his eyes still keen and roving, wandering medita- tively over the still water and the far-stretching plain, as the fading eve closed in magical splendour before his unresponsive gaze, how much was this poor, untaught savage to be pitied, in comparison with a happy English labourer, adscrijjtus fjlebce of his parish — lord of eleven babes, and twelve shillings per week, and, though scarce past his prime, dreading in- creased rheu^matism and decreasing wages with every coming winter ! For this octogenarian of one of earth's most ancient families had retained most of his accomplishments, a few simple virtues, and much of his strength and suppleness ; still could he stand erect in his frail canoe, fashioned out of a single sheet of bark, and drive her swift and safely through the turbulent tide of a flooded river. Still could he dive like an otter, and like that " fell beastie " bring up the impaled fish or the amphibious turtle. Still could he snare the wild fowl, track the honey-bee, and rifle the nest of the pheasant of the thicket. XJi^on him, as, indeed, is the case with many of the older aboriginals, the fatal gifts of the white man had no power. He refused the fire-water ; he touched not the strange weed, by reason of the magical properties of which the souls of men are exhaled in acrid vapoui-— oh, subtle and prema- ture cremation ! — or sublimated in infinite sneezings. He drank of the lake and of the river, as did his forefathers ; he ate of the fowls of the air and of their eggs (I grieve to add, occasionally stale), of the forest creatures, and of the fish of the rivers. In spite of this unauthorized and unrelieved diet, 64 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM. [en. v. lightly had the burning summers passed over his venerable pate. The square shoulders had not bowed, the upright form still retained its natui'al elasticity, while the knotted muscles of the limbs, moving like steel rings under his sable skin, showed undiminished power and volume. CHAPTER VI. " Law was designed to keep a state in peace."— Cm66c. The mail-trap arrived this time with unwonted punc- tuahty, and out of it stepped Mr. M'Nab, "to time" as usual, and with his accustomed cool air of satisfaction and success. " Made rather a better deal of it than I expected, sir," was his assertion, after the usual greetings. " There were several heavy lots of store sheep to arrive, so I stood off, and went to look at some others, and finally got these for ten and three- pence. We had a hard fight for the odd threepence ; but they gave in, and I have the agreement in my pocket." " You have done famously," said Jack, " and I am ever so glad to see you back. I have been worked to death. Every shepherd seems to have tried how the dingoes rated the flavom- of his flock, or arranged for a ' box ' at the least, since you went. I have put on Wildduck's family for retrievers at the wash-pen." " Well, we wanted a black fellow or two there," said M'lSTab. " Throwing in is always a risky thing, but we can't help it this year. There's nothing hke a black fellow where sheep have anything like a long swim." Jack re-congratvilated himself that night upon the for- tunate possession of the astute and efiicient M'lSTab, who seemed, Hke the dweller at the Central Chinese " Inn of the Three Perfections," to '* conduct all kinds of operations with unfailing success." In this instance he had made a sum equalling two-thirds of his salary entirely by his own fore- thought and promptitude of action. This was something like a subaltern, and Jack, looking proud — Far as human eye could see — Saw the promise of the future And the jirices sheep would be. 56 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. The season, with insensible and subtle gradation, stole slowly, yet surely, forward. The oat-grass waved its tassels strangely like the familiar hay-lield over many a league of plain and meadow. The callow broods of wild fowl sailed joyously amid the broad flags of the lagoons, or in the deep pools of the creeks and river. The hawk screamed exultant as she floated adown the long azure of the bright blue, change- less summer sky. Bird, and tree, and flower told truly and gleefully, after their fashion, of the coming of fair spring ; brief might be her stay, it is true, but all nature had time to gaze on her richly-tinted robes and form, potently enthralling in their sudden splendoiu", as ai'e the fierce and glowing charms of the south. Unbroken success ! The new shet>p arrived and were de- livered reluctantly by their owner, who swore by all his gods that the agents had betrayed him, and that for two pins he would not deliver at all, but finally consented to hear reason, and sold his cart and horses, tent and traps— yet another bargain — to the invincible M'Nab, dejiarting with his under- lings by mail. Shearing was nearly over, the last flock being washed, when one afternoon M'Nab came home in a high state of dissatisfaction with everything. The men were shearing })adly ; there had been two or three rows ; the washers had struck for more wages ; everything was out of gear. " I've been ti-ying to find out the reason all day," said he, as he threw himself down on the camp-bed in his tent, with clouded brow, " and I can think of nothing unless there is some villainous hawker about with grog ; and I haven't seen any cart either." " It's awfully vexatious," said Jack, " just as we were getting through so well. What tlie pest is that 1 " By this time, the day having been expended in mishaps and conjec- tures, evening was drawing on. A dark figure came bounding through the twilight at a high rate of speed, and, casting itself on the tent lloor, remained in a crouching, pleading position. '* Wliy, Wildduck," said Jack, in amazement, " what is the matter now 1 You are the most dramatic young woman. Has a hostile^ bravo been attempting to carry you ofl" 1 ov old man Jack had a fit of unfounded jealousy 'I Tell us all about it." "That ole black gin, Nanny," sobbed the girl, lifting up VI.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 57 her face, across which the blood from a gash on the brow mixed freely with her tears ; " that one try to kill me, she close up choke me only for Maramie." Here she showed her throat, on which were marks of severe compression. " Poor Wildduck ! " said Jack, trying to soothe the excited creature. " What made her do that 1 I thought yours was a model happy family 1 " " She quiet enough, only for that cursed drink. She regular debbil-debbil when she get a glass." "Ay ! " said M'Nab, "just as I expected ; and where did you all get it 1 You've had a nip, too, I can see." " Only one glass, Mr. M'Nab ; won't tell a lie," deprecated the fugitive. " That bumboat man sell shearers and washers some. You no see him 1 " " How should I see ] " quoth M'Nab ; " where is he now 1 " " Just inside timber by the wash-pen," answered the girl ; " he sneak out, but leave 'em cart there." " I think 1 see my way to cutting out this pirate, or ' bum- boat,' as Wildduck calls him," said Jack. " The forest laws were sharp and stern — that is, I believe, that on suspicion of illegal grog you can capture a hawker with the strong hand in New South Wales. So, Wildduck, you go and camp with the carrier's wife, she'll take you in ; and, M'Nab, you get a couple of horses and the ration-carrier — he's a stout fellow — and we'll go forth and board this craft. We'll do a bit of privateering ; ha, ha ! ' whate'er they sees upon the seas they seize upon it.' " With short preparation the little party set out in the cool starlight. Jack put a revolver into his belt for fear of acci- dents. Mr. M'Nab had fished out the section of the Licensed Hawkers' Act which referred to the illegal carrying of spirits, and, being duly satisfied that he had the law on his side, was ready for anything. The ration-carrier was strictly impartial. He was ready to assist in the triumph of capture, or to return unsuccessful with an equal mind, caring not a straw which way the enterprise went. He lit his pipe, and followed silently. As they approached the wash-pen they became sensible of an extraordinary noise, as of crying, talking, and screamins: — all mincjled. From time to time a wild shriek ... rent the air, while the rapid articulation m an unknown tongue seemed to go on uninterruptedly. 58 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [cuap. " Must be another set of blacks," said Jack, as he halted to listen. *' I hope not ; one camp is quite enough on the place at a time." "It's that old sweep, Nanny, I'm thinking," said the ration- carriei'. *' WHien she has a drop of grog on board she can make row enough for a Avhole tribe. I've heard her at them games before." As the miami of the sable patriarch came into view, dimly lighted by a small fire, an altogether unique scene presented itself. The old gin, called Kanny, very lightly attired, was marching backward and forward in front of the fire, appar- ently in a state of demoniac possession. She was crying aloud in her own tongue, with the voice at its highest pitch of shrillness, and with inconceivable rapidity and frenzy. In her hand she carried a long and tolerably stout wand, being, in fact, no other than the identical yam-stick to which Wild- duck had referred as a weapon of ofl'ence, when proposing her as a fitting antagonist for the contumacious young stockman. With this she occasionally punctuated her rhetoric by waving it over her head, or bringing it down with terrific violence upon the earth. The meagi'e frame of the old heathen seemed galvanised into magical power and strength as she paced swiftly on her self-appointed course, whirling her shrivelled arms on high, or bounding from the earth with surprising agility. Such may have been the form, such the accents, of the inspired prophetess in the dawn of a religion of mystery and fear among the rude tribes of earth's earliest peoples — a Cassandra shrieking forth her country's woes — a Sibyl pour- ing out the dread oracles of a demon worship. The old warrior sat unmoved, with stony eyes fixed on vacancy, as the weird apparition passed and repassed like the phantas- magoria of a dream ; while his aged companion, who seemed of softer mould, cowered fearfully and helplessly by his side. " l?y Jove ! " said Jack, " this is a grand and inspiriting sight. I don't wonder that Wildduck fied away from this style of tiling. This old beldame would frighten the very witches on a respectable Walpurgis night. Great is the fire- water of the white man ! " "She'll wear herself out soon," said the ration-carrier. " Old man Jack wouldn't stand nice about downing her with the waddy, if she came near enough to him. He and the VI.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 59 tother old mammy, tliey never touches no grog. They're about the only two people in this part of the country as I know of as doesn't. But the gins is awfvil." " Polygamy has its weak side, apparently," moralized Jack, as still the frenzied form sped frantically past, and raved, and yelled, and chattered, and threatened ; " not but what the uncultured white female occasionally goes on ' the rampage ' to some purpose. Hallo ! she's shortening stride ; we shall see the finale." Suddenly, as if an unseen hand had arrested the force which had so miraculously sustained her feeble form, she stopped. The fire of her protruding eyes was quenched ; her nerveless limbs tottered and dragged ; uttering a horrible, hoarse, unnatural cry, and throwing out her arms as in supplication and fear, she fell forward, without an effort to save herself, almost upon the embers of the dying fire. Old man Jack sat stern and immovable ; but the woman ran for- ward with a gesture of pity, and, dragging the corpse-like form a few paces from the fire, covered it with a large opossum-skin cloak or rug. " We may as well be getting on towards this scoundrel of a hawker," proposed M'Nab. " He ought to get it a little hotter if it were only for this bit of mischief." " There's a deal of tobacky in the grog these fellows sell," observed the ration-carrier, with steady conviction, " that's the worst of 'em ; if they'd only keep good stuft', it wouldn't be so much matter in this black country, as one might say. But I remember getting two glasses, only two as I'm alive, from a hawker once ; I'm blest if they didn't send me clean mad and stupid for a whole week." On the side furthest from the creek upon which the tem- porary wash-pen had been constructed, and midway between it and the plains, which stretched far to the eastward, lay a sand-ridge or dune, covered with thick growing pines. In this natural covert the reconnoitring party doubted not that the disturber of their peace had concealed himself. Biding into it, they separated until they struck the well-worn trail which, in the pre-merino days, had formed the path by which divers outlying cattle came in to water ; following this, they came up to a clear space where a furtive-looking fire betrayed the camp of the unlicensed victualler. A store-cart, with the 60 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. ordinary canvas tilt, and the heterogeneous packages common to the profession, wei-e partly masked by the timber. As they rode lip rapidly a man emerged from the shadow of a large pine and confronted them. "Hallo! mates," he said, in a gruff but jocular tone; " what's the row 1 You ain't in the bushranging line, are you? because I've just sent away my cheques, worse luck." " You'll see who we are directly," said Jack, jumping down, and giving his horse to the ration-carrier. " I Avish to search your cart, that's all. I believe you've been selling spirits to my men. I'm a magistrate." " What d'yer mean, then, by coming here on the bounce? " said the man, placing himself doggedly between Jack and the cart. " You ain't got a warrant, and I'll see you far enough before you touches a thing in that there cart. Wliy, my wife's asleep there." " No she ain't," said a shrill voice, as a woman disengaged herself from the canvas, " but you don't touch anything for all that. We've our licence, ain't we. Bill, and what's the use of paying money to Government if pore people can't be purtected?" "Perhaps you're not aware," said M'Nab, with cool ac- curacy, "that by the 19th and 20th sections of the 13th Victoria, No. 36, any magistrate or constable, on suspicion of spirits in unlawful quantities being carried for the purpose of sale, can search such hawker's cart and take possession of the spirits." " That's the law," said Jack, " and we are going to search your cart ; so stand .aside, you cowardly scoundrel, making your ill-gotten profits out of the wages of a lot of poor fellows who have worked hard for them. Do you see this 1 " Here Jack suddenly produced his revolver, and giving the fellow a shove, which sent him staggering against a fallen tree, took possession of the vehicle, all unheeding the shrill tones and anything but choice language of the female delinquent. "Ay !" said M'Nab, as he leaped actively into the cart, and turned over packages of moleskin and bundles of boots, bars of soap, and strings of dried apples, " this is all right and square ; if you had only kept to a fair trade nobody could take ye. What's under tliese blankets 1 " VI.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 61 Lifting a pile of loosely-sj^read blankets, he suddenly raised a shout of triumph. " So this was where the lady was sleeping, is it 1 Pity for yovi, my man, she didn't stay there ; we should have been too polite to raise her. The murder is out." Hei'e he drummed with his hand upon a new kind of instrument — a ten-gallon kesf, half empty too. " What a lot the ruffian must have sold." " What is your name 1 " asked Jack, blandly. " William Smith," answered the fellow, gruffly. " Alias Jones, alias Dawkins, I suppose ; never mind, we shall have time to find out your early history, I dare say. Now, William, it becomes my duty to arrest you in the Queen's name, and, for fear of your giving us the slip, I must take the precaution of tying your hands behind your back." Suiting the action to the word, he " muzzled " Mr. William so suddenly and effectually that, aided by M'Nab, there was no great difficulty in securing him by means of a stout cord which formed part of his own belongings. " Keep off, Mrs. Smith, or we shall be under the necessity of tying you up too." This was no superfluous warning, as with a considerable flow of Billingsgate, and with uplifted arms, the " bumboat woman " showed the strongest desire to injure Jack's complexion. " You call yourselves men," she screamed, " coming here in the dead of night, three to one, and rummaging poi'e people's property like a lot of buslu-angers. I'll have the law of ye, if you was fifty squatters — robbing the country, and won't let a pore man live. I've got money, and friends too, as'll see us righted. Do'n't ye lay a finger on me, ye hungry, grinding, Port Phillip Yankee slave driver" — (this to M'Nab) — " or I'll claw your ugly face till your mother wouldn't know ye." " It's my opinion and belief," said M'lSTab, " that she wouldn't be far behind old Nanny, if she had that yam-stick and another tot or two of her own grog. Here, Wilson, you catch this fellow's horse ; there he is, hobbled under the big tree, and put him in the shafts. Mr. Redgrave and I will bring yours on." 62 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. Tho ration-carrier, mncli entertained, did as he was told, and ^Ir. William being ordered to enter liis own vehicle, on pain of being attached to the tail-board, and compelled to walk behind, like a bullock-driver's hackney, the procession moved olY, the I'ation-carrier driving, and the others riding behind. Mi's. Smith followed for some distance, disparaging everybody concerned, and invoking curses upon the innocent heads of all the Sjuatters in Riverina, but finally consented to avail herself of the carriage. In this order they reached Gondaree at an advanced hour of the night ; and the next day Mr. William was safely lodged in the lock-up at the rising townshii) of Burrabri, thirty miles down the river. Here he laiiguislied, until a couple of neighbouring Ju.stices of the Peace could spare time from their shearing to try the case, when, the needful evidence being foithcoming, he was ilned thii'ty pounds, with the alternative of three months' imprisonment in Bochara gaol. Hereupon his faithful companion appeared in a new light, and made a liighly practical suggestion — -'^ Vou take it out, Bill," said the artful fair one ; " don't you go for to pay 'em a red farden. You'll be a deal cooler in gaol than anywhere else in this blessed sandy countiy. I'll look arter the cart and boss, and have all ready for a good spree at Christmas. You'll be out by then." ]\[r. William looked at the blue sky thi'ough the open door of the public-house — the iui2)i'ovised court-house on such occasions — but finally decided to earn an honest penny — ten pounds per mensem, by voluntary incarceration. When he did come forth, just before the C'hristmas week — alas that the chronicler should have to recoid one more in- stance of woman's perfidy ! - tliefrail partner of his guilt had sold the hor.se and cart, retaineil the prici' th(>reof, and bolted with "another 'Bill,' wliose Christian name was John." Tho little episode ended, nothing occurred to mai- the onward progress of events initil the la.st bale of wool was duly sliorn,]iacked, and safely do]t()si(ed on a waggon en route for the .steamer and a colonial market. Then, witli a clear con.science and a feeling of intense and cumulative satisfaction, Mv. .Toliu llcdgrave Itetook lumself once moi'e to the bu.sy haunts (jf men. Jlad lie been !Sir VI.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 63 John Fi-anklin, returning from a three-years' voyage to the North Pole, he could hardly have been more jubilant and grateful to a kind Providence, when he again ensconced himself in the up-train for the metropolis. He revelled and rioted in the unwonted luxuries of town life, like a midship- man at the Blue Posts. Bread and butter, decent cookery, and cool claret, the half -forgotten ceremonial of dinner, billiards, books, balls, lawn parties, ladies, luxuries of all sorts and kinds ; how delicious, how intoxicating they were ! Material advantages went hand in hand with this re-entrance to Eden. He had very properly agreed with M'Nab that it was well to sell this year's clip in the colony, as the washing and getting up were only so-so, and wool was high. Next year they might show the English and French buyers what the J E. brand over Gondaree was like, and reasonably hope that every year would add to the selling price of that valuable, extensive, and scientifically got-up clip. Jack looked bronzed, and thinner than of old, but all his friends, especially the ladies, voted it an improvement ; he had the air of an explorer, a dweller in the wilderness, and what not. His wool, which followed him, sold extremely well. Assumed to be successful, he was more popular than ever. His bankers were urbane ; he was consulted by some of the oldest and most astute speculators ; men prophesied great things as to his ultimate financial triumphs. And Jack already looked upon himself as forming one of the congress of Australian Rothschilds, and began to think of all the munificent and ingeniously helpful things that he would do in such case ; for he was of a kindly and sentimentally generous tendency, this speculative Jack of ours, and his day-dreams of wealth were never unmingled with the names of those who immediately after such realization would hear something to their advantage. Jack lingered in Paradise for a couple of months, during which time he received his wool money, and made arrangements with his bankers for the purchase of as much wire as would suffice to fence a large proportion of his run. His stores were commensurate with the future prestige of the establishment. He explained to Mr. Mildmay Shrood, his banker, that he might possibly put on a few thousand more sheep if he saw a good opportunity. Of course he could buy more cheaply for cash ; and if they paid as well as the 64 THE SQUATTER'S DREAJI. [ch. vi. lot he had picked up this year, they would be very cheap after the wool was olf their backs. '* My dear sir," said Mr. Shrood, with an air of friendly interest, " the bank will be most happy to honour your drafts up to ten thousand j^ounds. If you need more you will be kind enough to advise. I hear the most favourable accounts of the district in which you have invested, and of your property in paiticulai*. What is your own opinion — which I should value — upon the present prices of stock and stations ? will they keep up ? " " I have the fullest belief," quoth Jack, with judicial certainty, " in the jiresent rates being maintained for the next ten years ; for live years at least it is impossible by my calcvilations, if correct, that any serious fall should take place. The stock, 1 believe, are not in the country in sufficient niunbers to meet the rapidly enlarging demand for meat. Wool is daily finding new markets and manufacturers. I never expect to see bullocks above five pounds again ; but sheep — sheep, you may depend, will go on rising in price until I should not be surprised to see fiist-class stations fetching thirty shillings, or even two pounds, all round." " Quite of your opinion, my dear Mr. Redgrave," quoth the affable coin-compeller. " Happy to have my ideas confirmed by a gentleman of so much experience. Depend upon it, sheep-farming is in its infancy. Good morning. Good morning, my dear sir." Jack saw no particular reason for hui'rying himself, being represented at Gondai-ee by a far better man than himself, as he told everybody. 80 he spent his Chi'istmastide joyously, and permitted January to glide over, as a month suitaVjle for gradually making u]) his miud to return to the wilderness. Early in February he V)egan to feel bored with the " too-muchness " of nothing to do, anil wisely departed. CHAPTER VII. " But he still governed with resistless hand, And where he could not guide he would command." — Crabbe. When Jack got back he was rather shocked at the altered aspect of the run. There had been no rain, except in inconsiderable quantity, during his absence, and the herbage generally showed signs of a deficiency of moisture. The river ilats, wLich were so lush and heavily cropped with green herbage that your horse's feet made a " swish-swash- ing " noise as you rode through it, now were very parched up, dry, and bare, or else burned off altogether. On mentioning this to Mr. M'lSTab, he said — • " AVell, the fact is that the grass got very dry, and some fellow put a fire-stick into it. Then we have had a great number of travelling sheep through lately, and they have fed their mile pretty bare. The season has been very dry so far. I sincerely trust we shall get rain soon." " We may," said Jack. " But when once these dry years set in, they say you never know when it may rain again. But how do the sheej) look 1 " " Couldn't possibly look better," answered M'Nab, de- cisively. " There is any quantity of feed and water at the back, and I have not troubled the frontage much. I am glad ye sent the wire up. We were nearly stopped, as it came just as the posts were in. I have got one line of the lambing paddock nearly finished, and we shall have that part of the play over before long. Ko more sliepherds and ' motherers ' to pay in that humbugging way next year." " And how are the other things getting on ? " inquired Jack. " Well, the cottage is nearly fit to go into. Your bedroom F 66 THE SQUATTKR'S DREAM : [chap. is fiui.slied and ready for you. I liad a gai'den fenced in, and put on a Chinaman with a pump to grow some vegetables — for we were all half-way to a little scurvy. The wool-shed is getting along, though the carpenters went on the spree at Bochara for a fortnight. In fact, all is doing well generally, and 1 think you'll say the sheep are improved." Jack lost no time in establishing himself in his bedroom in the new cottage, which he had judiciously caused to be built of " pise," or rammed earth, by this means saving the cartage of material, for the soil was dug out immediately in front of the building, and securing coolness, solidity, and thickness of wall, none of which conditions are to be found in weather- board or slab buildings. Brick or stone was not, of course, to be thought of, owing to the absence of lime, and the tremendous expense of such materials. The heat was terrific. But when Jack found himself the tenant of a cool, spacious apartment, with liis books, a writing-table, and a little decent furniture, the rest of the cottage including a fair-sized sitting- room, with walls of reasonable altitude, he did not despair of being able to support life for the few years i-equired for the process of making a fortvme. The river, fringed by the graceful though dark-hued casuarinas, was pleasant enough to look on, as it rippled on over pools and sandy shallows, immediately lielow his verandah. And beyond all expres- sion was it glorious to bathe in by early morn or sultry eve. The garden, though far, far different from the lost Eden of Marshmcad, with its crowding crops, glossy shrubs, and heavily-laden fruit trees, was still a source of interest and pleasure. Under the unwearied labour and water-carrying of Ah Sing, rows of vegetables appeared, grateful to the eye, and were ravenously devoured by the eni]>Joycs of the station, whom a constant course of mutton, damper, and tea — tea, damper, and mutton — had led to, asM'Nab said truly, the lK)i(l('i--land of one of the most awful diseases that scourge liunianity. Never before had a cabbage been grown at Gondaree, and the older residents looked with a kind of awe at Ah Hing as he watered his rows of succulent vegetables, toilsomely and regularly, in the long lint mornings ;uid breezclcss afternoons. "My word, John," said Jiugaree, who had ridden over VII.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 67 from Jook-jook one day on no particular business, but to look at the wonderful improvements which afforded the staple subject of conversation that summer on the Warioo, " you're working this garden-racket fust chop. I've been here eight year, and never see a green thing except marsh- mailers and Warrigal cabbage. How ever do you make 'em come like that 1 " " Plenty water, plenty dung, plenty work, welly good cabbagee," said Ah Sing, sententiously. " Wliy you not grow melon, tater, ladishee 1 " " I don't say we mightn't," said Jingaree, half soliloquiz- ing, " but it's too hot in these parts to be carrying water all day long like a Chow. Give us one of them cabbages, John." " You takee two," quoth the liberal celestial. " Mr. Mackinab, he say, give um shepherdy all about. You shej^herdy ? " " You be hanged ! " growled the insulted stockman. " Do I look like a slouchin', 'possum-eating, billy-carrying craw- ler of a shepherd 1 I've had a horse under me ever since I was big enough to know Jingaree mountain from a hay- stack, and a horse I'll have as long as I can carry a stock- whip. However, I don't suppose you meant any offence, John. Hand over the cabbages. Blest if I couldn't eat 'em raw without a mossel of salt." " Here tomala — welly good tomala," said the pacific Chinaman, appalled at the unexpected wrath of the stranger. "Welly good cabbagee, good-bye." Jack being comfortably placed in his cottage, took a leisurely look through his accounts. He was rather aston- ished, and a little shocked, to find what a sum he had got through for all the various necessaries of his position. — Stores, wages, contract payments, wire, blacksmith, car- penters, sawyers, bricklayers (for the wash-pen and the cottage chimneys). — Cheque, cheque, there seemed no end to the outflow of cash — and a good deal more was to come, or rather to go, before next lambing, washing, and shearing were concluded. He mentioned his ideas on the subject to Mr. M'Nab. That financier frankly admitted that the outlay vjas large, positively but not relatively. " You understand, sir," he F 2 68 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. said, " that much of this money will not have to be spent twice. Once have your fences up, and breed wp, or buy, till you have stocked your run, and you are at the point w here the lai'gest amount of profit, the wool and the surplus sheep, is met by the minimum of expenditure. No labour will be wanted but three or four boundary liders. The wool, I think, will be well got up, and ought to sell well." " I dare say," said Jack, " I dare say. It's no use stopping half way, but really, the mone}' does seem to run out ao from a sieve. However, it will be as cheap to shear 40,000 sheep as twenty. So I shall decide to stock up as soon as the fences are finished." This point being settled, Mr. M'Nab pushed on his projects and operations with unflagging energy. He worked all day and half the night, and seemed to know neither weariness nor fatigue of mind or body. He had all the calculations of all the dilTerent conti-acts at his fingers' ends, and never per- mitted to cool any of the multifarious irons which he had in the fire. He kept the different parties of teamsteis, fencers, splitters, carpenters, sawyers, dam-makers, well-sinkers, all in hand, going smoothly and without delay, hitch, or dissatisfaction. He provided for their rations being taken to them, kept all the accounts accurately, and if there was so much as a sheep- skin not returned, as per agi'eement, the defaulter was regularly charged with it. Incidentally, and besides all this work, sufficient for two ordinary men, he administered the shepherds and their charge — now amounting to nearly 30,000 sheep. Jack's admiration of his manager did not slacken or change. " By Jove ! " he said to himself, occasionally, " that fellow jNI'Nab is fit to be a general of division. He never leaves anything to chance, and he seems to foresee everything and to arrange the cure before the ailment is announced." The cottage being now finished, Jack began to find life not only endurable, but almost enjoyable. He had got up a remnant of his library, and with some English papers, and the excellent weeklies of the colonies, he found that he had (juite as much mental j)abulum as he had Icisui-e to consume. The sheep were looking famously Avell. The lambs were nearly as big in appearance as their mothers. The store sheep had fattened, and would be fit for the butcher as soon as their VII.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 69 fleeces were off. The sliepherds, for a wonder, gave no trouble, the ground being open, and their flocks strong ; all was going well. The wool shed was progressing towards completion ; the wash-pen would follow suit, and be ready for the spouts, with all the latest improvements, which were even now on the road. Unto Jack, as he smoked in the verandah at night, gazing on the bright blue starry sky, listening to the rippling river, came freshly once more the beatific vision of a completely-fenced and fully-stocked run, paying splendidly, and ultimately taken off his hands at a profit, which should satisfy pride and compensate privation. He and Mr. M'Nab had also become accustomed to the ways of the population. "I thought at. first," said Jack, " that I never set eyes on such a set of duffers and loafers as the men at the Warroo generally. But I have had to change my opinion. They only want management, and I have seen some of the best worldng men among them I ever saw anywhere. One requires a good deal of patience in a new country," "They want a dash of ill temj)er now and then," rejoined M'Nab. " It's very hard, when work is waiting for want of men, to see a gang of stout, lazy fellows going on, refusing a pound and five-and-twenty shillings a week, because the work is not to their taste." "Bat do theyl " inquired Jack. " There weie five men refused work from one of the fence contractors at that price yesterday," said M'lSTab, wrath- f ully. " They wouldn't do the bullocking and only get shepherds' wages, was the answer. I had the travellers' hut locked up, and not a bit of meat or flour will any traveller get till we get men." " That doesn't seem unjust," said Jack. " I don't see that we are called upon to maintain a strike against our own rate of wages, which we do in effect by feeding all the idle fellows who elect to march on. But don't be hard on them. They can do us harm enough if they try." " I don't see that, sir. The salt-bush Avon't burn, and they would never think of anything else. They must be taught in this part of the world that they will not be encouraged to refuse fair wages. Now we are talking about rates — seventeen and sixpence is quite enough to give a 70 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. liumliod for shearing. We must have an niirlerstanding with the other sheep-owners, and try and fix it this year." Whether intimidated by the determined attitude of Mr. M'Nab, or because men differ in their aspirations, on the Warroo as in otlier places, the next party of travellers thankfully accejited the contractors' work and wages, and buckled to at once. They were, in fact, a party of navvies just set free from a long ])iece of contract, and this putting up posts, pretty hard work, was just what they wanted. M'Nab fully believed it was owing to him, and mentally vowed to act with similar decision in the next case of mutiny. A steady enforcement of your own i-ules is what the people here look for, thought he. The seasons glided on. Month after month of Jack's life, and of all our lives, fleeted past, and once again shearing became imminent. The time did not hang heavily on his hands ; he rose at daylight, and after a j)liuige in the i-ivei* the various work of each day asserted its claims, and our merino-multiplier found himself wending his way home at eve as weary as Gray's ploughman, only tit for the consump- tion of dinner and an early retreat to his bedroom. A moi'e pretentious and certainly more neatly-arrayed artist — indeed, a cordon bleu, unable to withstand the tempta- tions of town life — had succeeded Bob the cook. Now that the cottage was completed, and reasonable comfort and coolness were attainable, Jack told himself that it was not such a bad life aftei* all. A decent neighbour or two had turned up within visiting distance — that is under fifty miles. The constant labour sweetened his mental health, while the " great expectations " of the (lawless perfection of the new wool-shed, the highly improved wash-pen, and the generally triumphant success of the coming clii>, lent ardour to his soul and exultation to his general bearing. M'Nab, as usual, worked, and planned, and calculated, and organized with the tireless I'egularity of an engine, ("liielly by his exertions and a large enn'ssioii of circulars, the Warroo sheep-holders had })een I'oused to a determination to reduce the price of shearing pei- hundred from twenty shillings to seventeen and sixpence. This reduced rate, in sj)ite of some grumbling, tliey were enabled to carry out, chielly owing to ;iii unusual aljumlancc ol" (lie part iciilai- class of VII.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 71 workmen concerned. The men, after a few partial strikes, capitulated. But they knew from whence the movement had emanated, and were not inclined altogether to forget the fact. Indeed, of late M'Nab, from overwork and con- centration of thought, had lost his originally imperturbable manner. He had got into a habit of " driving " his men, and bore himself more nearly akin to the demeanour of the second mate on board a Yankee merchantman than the superintendent of the somewhat free and independent workmen of an Australian colony. " He's going too fast, that new boss," said one of the wash-pen hands one day, as Mr. M'Nab, vinusually chafed at the laziness of one of the men who were helping to fit a boiler, had, in requital of some insolent rejoinder, knocked him down, and discharged him on the spot. " He'll get a rough turn yet, if he don't look out — there's some very queer characters on the Warroo." And now the last week of July had arrived. The season promised to be early. The grasses were unvisually forward, while the burr-clover, matted and luxuriant, made it evident that rather less than the ordinary term of sunshine would suffice to harden its myriads of aggressively injurious seed- cylinders. The warning was not unnoticed by the ever- watchful eye of M'lSTab. " There will be a bad time with any sheds that are unlucky enough to be late this year," he said, as Jack and he were inspecting the dam and lately-placed spouts of the wash-pen ; " that's why I've been carrying a full head of steam lately, to get all in order this month. Thank goodness, the shed will be finished on Saturday, and I'm ready for a start on the first of August." Of a certainty, every one capable of being acted upon by the contagion of a very uncommon degree of energy had been working at high pressure for the last two months. Paddocks had been completed ; huts were ready for the washers and shearers. The great plant, including a steam-engine, had been strongly and efficiently fitted at the wash-pen, where a dam sent back the water for a mile, to the great astonish- ment of Jingaree and his friends, who occasionally rode over, as a species of holiday, to inspect the work. " My word," said this representative of the Arcadian, or 72 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM: [chap. perhaps Saturniaii, period. " I wonder what old JMorgan would say to all this here tiddley-winkin', with steam-engine, and wire-fences, and knock-about men at a pound a week, as plenty as the black fellows when he first oanie on the ground. They'll have a Christy pallis yet, and minstrels too, I'll be bound. They've fenced us off from our Long Camp, too, with that cussed wire. Said our cattle went over our boundary. Boundaries be blowed ! I've seen every herd mixed from here to Bocliara, aftei- a dry season. Took men as knew their work to draft 'em again, I can tell you. If these here fences is to be run up all along the river, any Jackaroo can go stock-keeping. The country's going to mischief." Winding up with this decided statement of disapproval, Mr. Jingnree thus delivered himself at a cattle muster at one of the old-fashioned stations, where the ancient manners and customs of the land were still preserved in an uncor- rupted state. The other gentlemen, Mr. Billy the Bay, from Durgah, Mr. Long Jem, from Deep Creek, Mr. Flash Jack, from Banda JNIurianvil, and a dozen other representa- tives of the spur and stock-whip, listened witli evident approbation to Jingaree's jieroration. " The blessed country's a blessed sight too full," said Mr. Long Jem. " 1 mind the time when, if a cove wanted a fresh hand, he had to ride to Bochara and stay there a couple of days, till some feller had finished knockin' down his cheque. Now they can stay at home, and pick and choose among the travellers at their ease. It's these blessed immigrants and diggers as spoils our market. What right have they got to the country, I'd like to know?" This natural but highly protective view of the labour question found general acquiescence, and nothing but the absurd latter-day theories of the necessity of population, and thxr: freedom of the individual, prevented, in their opinion, a return of the good old times, when each man fixed the rate of his own remuneration. oMeanwliile Mr. M'Nab's daring innovations progressed and j)rospered at the much-changed and higlily-iniproved Gondaree, On Saturday afternoon Redgrave and his manager siirveye.l, with no little pride, the completed and intlred :idniirable wool-shed. Nothing on the Warroo had vii.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 73 ever been seen like it. Jack felt honestly pi-oud of his new possession, as he walked up and down the long building. The shearing floor was neatly, even ornamentally, laid with the boards of the dehcately-tinted Australian pine. The long pens which delivered the sheep to the operator were battened on a new principle, applied by the ever-inventive genius of M'Nab. There were separate back yards and accurately divided portions of the floor for twenty shearers. The roof was neatly shingled. All the appliances for saving labour were of the most modern description, and as different from the old-world contrivances in vogue among the wool- sheds of the Warroo as a threshing-machine from a pair of flails. The wool-press alone had cost more as it stood ready for work than many a shed, wash-pen, huts, and yards of the eld days. CHAPTER YIII. " The crackling embers glow, And flakes of hideous smoke the skies defile." — Crabbe. " There is accommodation for more shearers than we sliall need this year," said M'Nab, apologetically, " but it is as well to do the thing thoroughly. Next year 1 hope we shall have fifty thousand to shear, and if you go in for some back country I don't see why there shouldn't be a hundred thf)usand sheep on the board before you sell out. That will be a sale worth talking about. ]\Ieanwhile, there's nothing like jilenty of room in a shed. The avooI will be all the better this year even for it." " I know it has cost a frightful lot of money," said Jack, pensively, practising a gentle gallop on the smooth, pale- yellow, aromatic-scented floor. " I dare say it will be a pleasure to shear in it, and all that — but it's spoiled a thousand pounds one way or the other." " What's a thousand jwunds 1 " said M'Nab, with a sort of gaze that seemed as tlunigh he were piercing the mists of f utiu-ity, and seeing an unbroken procession of tens of thou- sands of improved merinos marching slowly and impressively on to the battens, ready to deliver thi-ee pounds and a-half of spout-washed wool at half-a-crown a jxiund. " When you come to add a penny or two])('nce a pound to ;> large clip, all the money you can spend in a wash-pen, oi- a shed, is re- paid in a couple of years. Of course I mean when things are on a large scale." " Well, we're spending money on a large scale," said Jack. " I oidv liopc tlic rt'tunis and prdllts will be in the same propoi'tion." " Not a doubt of it," said M'Nab. " 1 must be off homo to meet the fencers." en. Tin.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 75 The shed was locked u^j, and they drove liome. As they alighted, three men were standing at the door of the store, apparently waiting for the " dole " — a pound of meat and a pannikin of flour, which is now found to be the reasonable minimum, given to every wayfarer by the dwellers in River- ina, wholly irrespective of caste, colour, indisposition to work, or otherwise, " as the case may be." Jack went into the house to prepare for dinner, while M'lSTab, looking absently at the men, took out a key and made towards the entrance to the store. " Stop," cried M'iSrab, "didn't I see you three men on the road to-day, about f oui' miles off 1 Which way have you come?" " We're from down the river," said one of the fellows, a voluble, good-for-nothing, loafing impostor, a regular "coaster" and "up one side of the river and down the other" traveller, as the men say, asking for work, and praying, so long as food and shelter are afforded, that he may not get it. " We've been looking for work this weeks, and I'm sure, sliding into an impressive low-tragedy growl, the 'ardships men 'as to put up with in this country — a- travellin' for work — ^no one can't imagine." "I dare say not," said M'Nab ; " it's precious little you fellows know of hardships, fed at every station you come to, taking an easy day's walk, and not obliged to work unless the employment thoroughly suits you. How far have you come to-day 1 " There was a slight appearance of hesitation and reference to each other as the spokesman answered — " From Dickson's, a station about fifteen miles distant." " You are telling me a lie," said M'lSTab, wrathfully. " I saw you sitting down on your swags tliis morning at the crossing-place, five miles from here, and the hut-keeper on the other side of the river told me you had been there all night and had only just left." "Well, suppose we did," said another one, who had not yet spoken, " there's no law to make a man walk so many miles a day, like travelling sheep. I dare say the squatters would have that done if they could. Are you going to give us shelter here to-night, or noV " I'll see you hanged first ! " broke forth M'Nab, indig- 76 THE SQUATTER'S DREAII : [chap. naiitly ; " what, ilo jou talk about shelter in weathci- like this ! A rotten tree is too good a lodging for a set of lazy, useless scoundrels, who go begging from station to station at the rate of five miles a day." " We did not come far to-day, it is true," said the third traveller, evidently a foreigner ; " but we have a far pas- age to-morrow. Is it not so, mes camarndes ? " " Far enough, and precious short rations too, sometimes," growled the man who had spoken last. " I wish some coves had a taste on it themselves." " See here, my man," said INI'Nab, going close up to the last speaker, and looking him full in the eye, " if you don't start at once I'll kick you off the place, and pretty quickly too." The man glared savagely for a moment, but, seeing but little chance of coming off best in an encounter with a man in the prime of youth and vigour, gave in, and sullenly picked up his bundle. The Frenchman, for such he was, tui-ned for a moment, and fixing a small glittering eye — cold and serpentine — upon M'Nab, said — " It is then that you lef use us a morsel of food, the liberty to lie on the hut floor 1 " "There is the road," repeated M'Nab ; " i will harbour no impostors or loafers." " I have the honour to wish you good-evening," said the Frenchman, bowing with exaggerated i)oliteness; " a pleasant evening, and dreams of the best." The men went sloAvly on their way. M'Nab went into the cottage, by no means too well satisfied A\ith himself . A feeling of remorse sprang up within his breast. " Hang the fellows ! " said he to himself, " it serves them right. Still I am going in to a comfortable meal and my bed, while these poor devils will most probably Iimvo neither. That French- man didn't seem a crawler either, though i didn't like the expression of his eye as he moved away. They'll make up for it at .Took-jook to-inori-ow. \\niy need they have told me that confounded lie? then they would have been treated well. However, it can't be helped. If we don't give them a lesson now and then the country will get full of fellows who do nothing l)ut consume rations, and fair station work will becoun' iiiijK)ssil)l('." vm.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 77 Early next morning — it was Sunday, by the way — Jack was turning round for another hour's snooze, an indul- gence to which he deemed himself fairly entitled after a hard week's work, when Mr. M'jSlab's voice [he was always up and about early, whatever might be the day of the week) struck strangely upon his ear. He was replying to one of the station hands ; he caught the words — " The shed ! God in heaven — you can't mean it ! " Jack was out of bed with one bound, and, half clad, rushed out. M'lSTab was sad- dling a horse with nervous hands that could scarcely draw a buckle. "What is it, man? " demanded Redgrave, with a sinking at the heart, and a strange presentiment of evil. "The wool-shed's a-fire, sir!" answered the man, falter- ingly, "and I came in directly I seen it to let you know." " On fire ! and why didn't you try and put it out 1 " in- quired he, hoarsely, " there were plenty of you about there." He was hoping against hope, and was scarcely surprised when the man said, in a tone as nearly modulated to sym- pathy as his rough utterance could be subdued to — " The men are hard at it, sir, but I'm afraid " Jack did not wait for the conclusion of the sentence, but made at once for the loose-box where his hack had been lately bestowed at night, and in a couple of minutes was galloping along the lately-worn "wool-shed track" at some distance behind M'Nab, who was racing desjierately ahead. Before he reached the ci-eek upon which the precious and indispensable building had been, after much careful plan- ning erected, he saw the great column of smoke rising through the still morning aii-, and knew that all was lost. He knew that the pine timber, of which it was chiefly composed, would burn " like a match," and that if not stifled at its earliest commencement all the men upon the Warroo could not have arrested its progress. As he gal- loped up a sufliciently sorrowful sight met his eye. The shearers, washers, and some other provisional hands, put on in anticipation of the unusual needs of shearing time, were standing near the fiercely-blazing structure, with fallen roof and charred uprights, which but yesterday had been the best wool-shed on the Warroo. The deed was done. There was 78 THE SQUATTER'S DREAJI : [chap. absolutely no hope, no opportunity of saving a remnant of the value of five pounds of the Avhole costly buiklin<;. " How, in the name of all that's — " said ho to M'Nab, -vvho was gazing fixedly beyond the red smouldering mass, as if his ever-working mind was already busied beyond the immediate disaster, " did the fire originate 1 It Avas never accidental. Then who could have had the smallest motive to do us such an injury? " "I am afraid I have too good a guess," answered M'Nab. " But of that by and by. Did you see any strange men camp here last night? " he asked of the crowd generally. " Travellers 1 " said one of the expectant shearers. " Yes, there was three of 'em came up late and begged some rations. I was away after my horse as made off. When I found him and got back it was ten o'clock at night, and these coves was just making their camp by the receiving-yard." "What like were theyT' "Two biggish chaps— one with a beard, and a little man, spoke like a 'Talian or a Frenchman." " Did they say anything ] " "Well, one of them — the long chap — began to run you down ; but the Fi'eiichman stopped him, and said you was too good to 'em altogether." " Who saw the shed first? " "I did, sir," said one of the fencers. "1 tui-ned out at daylight to get some wood, when the fust thing I saw was the roof all blazin' and part of it fell in. I raised a shout and started all the men. We tried buckets, but, lor' bless you, when we come to look, the iloor was all burned through and through." " Then you think it had been burning a good while ? " asked Jack, now beginning to midcrstand the drift of the examination. " Ilom-s and hours, sir," answered the man ; " from what we see, the fire started inider where the iloor joins the battens ; tliere was a lot of shavings under the battens, and some of them hadn't caught when we came. It was there the iire began sure enough." " Did any one see the strange ni(>n leave 1 " asked M'Nab, with assumed coolness, tliough his lij) worked nervously, and liis forehead was drawn into deep wriulvles. VIII.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 79 " Not a soul," said another of the hands. " I looked over at their camp as we rushed out, and it was all cleared out, and no signs of 'em." John Redgrave and his manager rode back very sadly to Steamboat Point that quiet Sunday morn. The day was fair and still, with the added silence and hush which long train- ing communicates to the mere idea of the Sabbath day. The birds called strangely, but not unmusically, from the pale-hued trees but lately touched with a softer green. The blue sky was cloudless. Nature was kindly and serene. No- thing was incongruous with her tranquil and tender aspect but the stern, tameless heart of man. They maintained for some time a dogged silence. The loss was bitter. Not only had rather more money been spent upon the building than was quite advisable or convenient, but the whole comfort, pride, and perhaps profit, of the shearing would be lost. " Those infernal scoundrels," groaned M'Nab ; " that snake of a Frenchman, with his beady black eyes. I thought the little brute meant mischief, though 1 never dreamed of this, or I'd have gone and slept in the shed till shearing was over. I'll have them in gaol before a week's ^» over their heads, but what satisfaction is there in that? It's my own fault in great part. I ought to have known better, and not have been so hard on them." " I was afraid," said Jack, " that you were a little too sharp with these fellows of late. I know, too, what they are capable of. But no one could have foreseen such an outrage as this. The next thing to consider is how to knock up a rough makeshift that we can shear in." "That doesn't give me any trouble," answered the spirit- stricken M'Nab ; " we could do as we did last year ; but the season is a month forwarder, and we shall have the burrs and erass-seed in the wool as sure as fate. But for that, I shouldn't so much care." M'Nab dejDarted gloomily to his own room, refusing con- solation, and spent the rest of the day writing circulars containing an accurate description of the suspected ones to every police-station within two hundred miles. Then it came to pass that the three outlaws were soon snapped up by a zealous sergeant, " on suspicion of having 80 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. committed a felony," and safely lodged in Bochara gaol. There did they abide for several weary months, until the Judge of the Cii'cuit Court was graciously pleased to come and try them. The loss in the first instance was sufficiently great. The labour of many men for nearly a year ; ev&iy nail, every ounce of iron contained in the large building had been brought from Melbovirne ; the saAvyers' bill was consider- able. Twice had the men employed to put on the shingles deserted, and the finishing of the roof was regarded by the anxious M'Nab as a kind of miracle. The sliding doors, the portcullises, the hundreds of square feet of battening, the circular drafting-yard ; all the very latest appliances and improvements, imited to very solid and perfect construc- tion, made an unusual though costly svxccess. And now, to see it wasted, and Avorse than wasted. " It is enough to make one believe in bad luck, Mr. Redgrave ! " said Mr. M'Nab, who had just quitted his bedroom. " I am afraid it uicuns bad luck for this season," pursued he ; '' our wool will be got up only middling, and if prices take a turn downward it will be very puzzUng to say what the damage done by this diabolical act of arson Avill amount to." "We must hope for the best," said Jack, who, feeling things very keenly at the time, had a great dislike to the protracted tortm-e which dwelling upon misfortunes always inflicts upon men of his organization. *' The deed is done. To-morrow we must i-ig up a second edition of last year's jiroud edifice." The sheep Avere sliorn, certainly. Mr. EedgraA'e did not exactly permit the crop of delicate, creamy, serrated, elastic, myriad-threaded material to be torn off by the salt-bushes, or to become lagged and patchy on the sheeps' backs. But the pleasure and pride of the toilsome undertaking, the light and life of the pastoral harvest, Avere absent. There was a total absence of rain ; so there Avas a good deal of unaA^oid- able dust. The men could not be got to take the ordinary amount of pains ; so the work Avas thoroughly unsatisfactory. Then, in s])ite of all the haste and indifierent Avorkmanship purj)Osely overlooked by IM'Nab, the grass-seed and cloA'er- burr ripened only too rapidly, and the eAves and lambs, VIII.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 81 coining last, were choke-full of it. The lower part of every fleece was like a nutmeg-grater with the hard, unyielding, hooked and barbed tentacles. M'Nab groaned in spirit as he saw all this unnecessary damage, which he was power- less to prevent, and again and again cursed the hasty word and lack of self-control which, as he fully believed, had indirectly caused this never-ending mischief. " A thousand for the shed, and another thousand for damage to wool," said he one day, as he flung one of these last porcupine-looking fleeces with a disgusted air into a rude wool-bin made of hurdles placed on end. " It's enough to make a man commit suicide. I feel as if I ought to walk to ]\Ielbourne with peas in my boots." "Never mind, M'Nab," said Jack, consolingly; "as I said before, the thing is done and over, and we may make ourselves miserable, and so injure our thought and labour fund. But that won't build the shed again. Luckily the sheep are all right — they couldn't burn them. I never saw a better lot of lambs, and the numbers are getting up to the fifty thousand I once proposed as a limit. What's the total count we have passed through 1 " " Forty-one thousand seven hundred and eighty," answered M'Nab, who always had anything connected with numerals at his fingers' ends. " We have bought several small lots since last year, and the lambing average was very high. Of course the lambs don't actually count till weaning time." " Well, we must only lio]3e for a good season," said Jack, " and for wool and prices to keep up. Then, perhaps, the loss of the shed won't be so telling. We ought to have a good many fat sheep to sell in the winter." " So we shall," said M'Nab, " nearly ten thousand — count- ing the full-mouthed and cull ewes. Then we shall have lambs from nearly sixteen thousand ewes next year. I hope the season will not fail us, now the paddocks are all finished." " Well, it does look rather dry," admitted Jack ; " so early in the year too. But then it always looks dry here when it doesn't rain. I shall have to run away to Mel- bourne now, and arrange whether to sell or ship this only moderately well-got-up wool of ours. I must have anothei- interview with Mr. Shrood. It has been all spending and no returns of late." G 82 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. Shearing being over — how dilTerently concluded to what he had fondly anticipated ! Jack hied himself to town for his annual holiday. It did not wear so much the air of a festival this year. There seemed to be a flavour of stern business about it ; much more than Jack liked. The wool-market was by no means in so buoyant a condi- tion as that of last year. The faces of his brother squatters, especially those of the more enterprizing among them, wore a serious and elongated expression. Ugly reports went about as to a probable fall in wool and stock. Jack found his indifferently got-up clip quite unsaleable in the colonial market. He therefore shipped it at once, taking a fair advance thereon. Freight, too, was unreasonably high that year. Everything seemed against a fellow. He went in for the little interview with Mr. Mildmay Shrood, and thought that affable money-changer less agree- able than of yore. " He wanted to know, you know." He asked a series of questions, testifying a desire to have the cleai'est idea of Jack's stock, value of property, liabilities, and probable expenditure during the coming year. He dwelt much upon the unfortunate destruction of the wool- shed ; asked for an estimate of the cost of another ; looked rather grave at the account of the get-up of the clip, and the necessity for shij^ping the same. However, the con- cluding portion of the interview was more reassuring. " Of course you will continue to draw as usual, my dear sir ; but I may say, in confidence, that in commercial circles a fall in prices is very generally anticipated." "There may be a temporary decline," rejoined Jack, candidly, " but it is impossible that it should be lasting. As for sheep, the stock are not at present in the country to enable us to keep up with the demand, especially since these meat-preserving establishments have commenced opei-ations." " Quite so, my dear sir, (juite so," assented Mr. tShrood, looking paternally at him and rubbing his hands. " / am quite of your opinion ; but some of our directors have doubts — have doubts. Would you mind looking in before you go — say in a week or two^ Tliaiiks. Good-day — good-day." Jack attended the wool-sales pretty regularly, and saw the clips which were undeniiibly well got up sell at good prices, in spite of tlie general dullness of the market. The clip was VIII.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 83 an unusually heavy one, and every day's train brought down trucks upon trucks of bales, as if the interior of Australia was one colossal wool-store, just being emptied at the com- mand of an enchanter. But the "heavy and moity" parcels were not touched by the cautious operators at any pi-ice. So Jack groaned in spirit, doubting that he might come in for a low market at home, and knowing that he would have saved himself but for the woful work of the incendiaries. He did not derive much comfort from the daring spirits whose early and successful ventures had inspired him with the first ideas of changing his district. They walked about like people who owned a private bank, but upon which bank there happened to be, at present, a run. They were, as a rule, men far too resolute to give in during adversity, or the threatening of any, how wild soever, commercial tempest. Still they looked sternly defiant, as who should say — " to bear is to conquer our fate." Jack did not enjoy the pro- babilities. These were brass pots of approved strength for floating in the eddying financial torrents. Might not he, an earthen vessel, meet with deadly damage, fatal cracks, irrevocable immersion, in their company 1 " Qiie diable allait-il /aire dans cette galere ? " He sent up his stores, making a close calculation as to quantity. There would not be so many men required after this shearing. The paddocks were all finished, and few hands would be needed. Then he had doors and windows, and hinges and nails, and tons of galvanized iron for roofing for the shed — all over aafain. Confound it ! Just as a fel- low was hoping to get a little straight. Jack did feel veiy unchristian. However, it was as necessary as tea and sugar — that is, if he ever intended to get a decent price for his wool again. Somewhat earlier in the season than usual, Jack commenced to revolve the question of a start. Then he bethought himself of Mr. Mildmay Shrood. " I wonder what he wanted to see me for % " asked Jack of his inner consciousness ; " very civil, friendly little fellow he is. I suspect my over-draft is pretty heavy just now. But the fencing is all done, that's a blessing. And forty thousand sheep and a first-class run are good security for more money than I'm ever likely to owe." So Mr. Redgrave hied away to the grand freestone portals G 2 84 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. which guarded the palace of gold and silver, and the magic paper which gladdeneth the heart of man, who reflecteth not that it is but a fiction — a " baseless fabric "—an unsubstan- tial jn-esentment of the potentiality of boundless wealth. 'Mr. Shrood was examining papers when he was ushered into the sacred parlour, and looked rather more like the dragon in charge of the treasure than the careless, open- handed financier of Jack's previous experience, whose sole business in life seemed to be to provide cheque-books ad infinituvi with graceful indifference. As he ran his eye down column after column of figures, his brow became cor- rugated, his jaw became set, and his face gradually assumed an expression of hardness and obstinacy. Throwing down the last of the papers, and clearing his brow with sudden completeness, he shook hands affection- ately with Jack, and gently anathematized the papers for their tediousness and stupidity. " Awfully wearing work, Mr. Eedgrave, this looking over the accounts of a large estate. 1 feel as fatigued as if I had been at it all night. How are you, and when do you leave?" "I think tlie day after to-morrow," said Jack. "I'm really tired of town, and wish to get home again." " Tired of the town, and of all its various pleasiu-es," asked Mr. Shrood, "at your age? Well, of course you are anxious to be at work again — very creditable feeling. By the way, by the way, now 1 think of it — you haven't en- cumbered your place by mortgage or in any other way dur- ing tlie last year, have ymi ? " "►Sir," replied Jack, \vi(li dignity, "I regard my property as pledged in honour to your bank, by which I have been treated hitherto with liberality and confidence. I trust that our relations may continue unaltered." "Certainly, my dear sir, certainl}'," rej)lied Mr. Mildmay 8hrood, with an air of touching generosity. " Precisely my own view. I liust you will liave no cause to regret your connection with our establishment. But T have not con- cealed from you my opinion that, financiall), tiiere exists a certain anxiety — premature in my view of events — but still distinct, as to the relations between stock and capital. I have been requested by my directors, to whose advice VIII.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 85 I am constrained to defer, to raise the point of security in those instances where advances, I may say considerable ad- vances, have been made by us. You see my position, I feel sure." " Oh, certainly," said Jack ; " of course," not seeing exactly what he was driving at. " You will not, therefore, feel that it amounts to any want of confidence on the part of the bank," continued Mr. Shrood, with reassuring explanation in every tone, " if I name to you the formal execution of a mortgage over your station, as a mere matter in the ordinary routine of business, for the support of our advances to you past and f utui-e 1 " " Oh, no," replied Jack, with a slight gulp, misliking the sound of the strictly legal and closely comprehensive instrvi- ment, which he had always associated with ruined men and falling fortunes hitherto. " I suppose it's a necessary precaution when the mercantile barometer is low. I shall be able to draw for necessary expenses as usual, and all that?" Mr. Shrood smiled, as if anything to the contrary was altogether too chimerical and beyond human imagination to be considered seriously for one moment. " My dear sir," he proceeded, " I hope you have never had reason to doubt our readiness to follow your suggestions hitherto. We have unbounded confidence in your manage- ment and discretion. As we have reached this point, how- ever, would you mind executing the deed which has been -prepared in anticipation of your consent, and concluding this, I confess, slightly unpleasing section of our arrangements while we are agreed on the subject, to which I hope not to be compelled again to recur." " Not at all," repHed Jack, "not at all," feeling like the man at the dentist's, as if the tooth might as well be pulled out now as hereafter. " Thank you ; these things are best carried through at one sitting. Pray excuse me for one moment. Mr. Smith ! " Here a junior appeared. "Will you bring in that — a — legal document, for Mr. Redgrave's signature, and a — attend to witness his signature 1 Your present liability to the bank, Mr. Redgrave," he explained, as the young gentleman disappeared, " amounts to, I think, fifteen thousand pounds 86 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. in round numbers — that is, foui'teen thousand nine hundred and eighty-seven pounds fourteen and ninepence. I think you mentioned forty thousand slieep as the stock, was it not, at present depasturing on the station 1 " " Forty-two — some odd hundreds," answered Jack, " but that is near enough." Here Mr. Smith reappeared, with au imposing-looking piece of parchment, commencing " Know all men by these presents," which was handed to Jack for his entertainment and perusal. Jack glanced at it. Nobody, save a North Briton or a very misanthropical person, ever does read a deed through, that I know of. But Jack knew enough of such matters to pick out heedfully the jirincipal clauses which concerned him. It was like most other compilations of a like nature, and contained, apart from unmeaning repetitions and exasperating sui'plusage, certain lucid sentences, which Jack understood to mean that he was to pay vip the said few thousands at his convenience, or in default to yield up Gondaree, with stock thereto attached, to the paternal but irresponsible " money-mill," under the wildly improbable ciixuuustauce of his being unable to (;lear oil such advances in years to come — with px'incipal and interest. " Forty-two thousand sheep, and station, at a pound," said Jack to himself, " leave a considerable margin ; so I needn't bother myself. Here goes. It will never be acted iipon — that is one comfort." So the name of John lledgrave was duly appended, and Mr. Smith wrote his name as witness Avithout the least embari-assment. He regarded squatters who required accom- modation as patients subject to mild attacks of epidemic disease, which usually gave way to proper medical, that is to say financial, treatment. Occasionally tlie patient succumbed. That however was not his affair. Let them all find it out for themselves. He had many a time and oft envied the bronzed squatter lounging in on a bright morning, throwing down a cheque and stuffing the five-pound notes carelessly into his waistcoat- pocket. But, young as lie Avas, he had more tlian once seen a careworn, grizzled man waiting outside the bank parlour, with ill-concealed anxiety for the interview which was to tell him whether c^r not he went forth a ruined and hopelessly VIII.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 87 broken man. Nothing could have been more soothing than the manner in which the whole operation of the mortgage had been performed. Still it was an operation, and Jack felt a sensation difficult to describe, but tending towards the conviction that he was not quite the same man as he had been previously. He was not in his usual spirits at dinner that evening, though of his two sharers of that well-cooked, yet not extravagant i-epast, Hautley had ordered it, and Jerningham was by odds the neatest talker then in town. The wine somehow wasn't like last week's. Must have opened a new batch. He had no kick at billiards. He sat moodily in an arm-chair in the smoking-room, and heard not some of the best (and least charitable) things going. He mooned oli' to bed, out of harmony with existing society. " What the dickens is up with Pv,eil grave 1 " asked little Prowler of old Snubham, of the Indian Irregular Force. " He looks as black as thunder, and hasn't a word to say for himself." " A very fine trait in a man's character," growled Snubham ; " half the peo})le one meets jabber everlastingly. Heaven knows. What woiild be the matter with him 1 Proposed to some girl, and is afraid she'll accept him. A touch of liver, perhaps. Nothing else can happen to a man at the present day, sir." " Must be a woman, I think ; he was awful spoony on Dolly Drosera. He's too rich to want money," said Prowler, with a reverential awe of the squatter proper. " Humph ! don't know — wool's down, I believe. He pays up at loo. Beyond that I have no curiosity. Very ungentle- manlike thing, curiositYo Mornin', Prowler." CHAPTER IX. " A i)erfect woman, nobly planned, To warn, to comfort and command." — Wordsworth. Jack's doubts and misgivings were written upon his open brow for twenty-four hours, but alter that period they disappeared like moi'uing mists. He awoke to a healthier tone of feeling, and determined to combat diffi- culty with renewed \'ig(nn' and unshaken firmness. " After all, I have not boirowed more than one good clip, and a little cutting down of the stock will set all right," said he to himself. " Wliere would Brass, Maisailly, and all these other great guns have been if they had boggled at a few thousands at tlie beginning? Next year's clip will be something like ; and I never heard of any one but old Exmore that had two wool-sheds biu-ned running. He put vip a stone and ii-on edilice then, a!id told them to see what they could make of that. There was no grass-seed in his country though. Well, there is nothing like a start from town for clearing out the blues. T wonder how fellows ever manage to live there all the year round." These encouraging reflections occuri-ed to the ingenuous mind of Mr. Redgrave as he was speeding over the first lunidred miles of rail which expedite the traveller pleasantly on the road to tliQ Great Desert. Facilis descensus Averni — which means that it is very easy to " settle one's self " in life — the "down ti'ain " being fiiniished Avith " palace-cars" of Pullman's patent, and gradients on the most seductive system of sliding scale. Again the long gi'ay plains. Again tlio night — one disjointed nightmare, where excessive jolts dislocated the most evil witch-wanderings, multiplying them, like the lower cnAP. IX.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 89 forms of life, by the severance. Then the long, scorching day, the intolerable flies, and lo ! Steamboat Point. Gondaree, in all its arid, unrelieved glare and grandeur once more — Mr. M'Nab weighing sheejiskins to a carrier, with as much earnestness as if he expected half-a-crown a pound for them. Everything much as usual. Ah Sing in the garden, watering cauliflowers. When Redgrave caught the last glimpse of him as he left for town he was watering cabbages. Everything very dry. No relief, no shade. The cottage looked very small : the surroundings stiff and bare. " My eyes are out of focus just now," said Jack to himself. " I must keep quiet till the vision accommodates itself to the landscape; other- wise 1 shall hurt M'lSTab's feehngs." " Well, how are you 1 " said Jack, heartily, as that person, having despatched his carrier, walked towards him. " You look very thriving, only dry ; rather dry, don't you think? " " Well, we have hardly had a drop of rain since you started. Might be just a shower. But everything is doing capitally. We are rather short-handed ; I sent away every soul but the cook, the Chinaman, and four bovindary -riders directly you left, and we are now, thanks to the fencing, quite independent of labour till shearing-time." " How in the world do you get on ? " inquired Jack, quite charmed, yet half afraid of M'Nab's sudden eviction. " Nothing can be simpler. The dogs were well poisoned before the fences were finished. There's no road thronah the back of the run, thank goodness. We haven't any bother about wells because of Bimbalong. I count every paddock once a month, and that's about all there is to do." " And who looks after the store 1 " inquired Jack. " I do, of course," said M'Nab ; " there is very little to give out, you'll mind. Two of the boundary-riders live at home here, and the other two at a hut at Bimbalong. Now you've come there will be hardly enough work to keep us going." "Four men to forty thousand sheep," moralized Jack. " What would some of the old hands think of that 1 Oh ! the weaners," cried he ; "I had forgotten them. How did you manage them, M'Nab? " "Well, we had a great day's drafting, and put them back in the river paddock. They are all as contented as possible, and as steady as old ewes — thirteen thousand of them." 90 THE SQUATTER'S DREAJI : [chap. " There's a trifle of bother saved by that arrangement. What a burden life used to be for the first three months after the weaning flocks were portioned out ! " Jack's spirits were many degrees Hghter after this conver- sation. Certainly there was a heavyish debt — and this millstone of a mortgagehung round " his neck alway " like the albatross in the Ancient Mariner ; but the compensating economy of the fencing was beginning to woi-k a cure. If one could only tide over the shearing with the present reduced Civil List, what a hole would the clip and the fat sheep make in the confounded "balance debtor ! " There is the wool-shed over again, to be sure. Wliat a murder that one should have all those hundredweights of nails, and tons of battens, and acres of flooring, and forests of posts and wall -plates to get all over again ! It was very bitter Avork in Jack's newly- born tendency to economy to have all this outlay added on to the inevitable expenditure of the season. " As I said before," concluded Jack, rounding off his soliloqiiy, " I never knew any fellow but Exmoor undergo the ordeal by fire two seasons running, so it's a kind of insiu'ance against the chapter of accidents this year." Jack insensibly returned to his ordinary provincial repose of mind and body. He rode about in the early mornings and cooler evenings, and took his turn to convoy travelling sheej"), to officiate at the store, and to relieve the ever-toiling IM'Nab in any way that jiresented itself. Ho kept up this kind of thing for a couple of months, and then — the unbroken monotony of the whole round of existence striking him rather suddenly one day — he made up his mind to a slight change. There was a station about fifty miles away, down the river, with the owner of wliich he had a casual acquaint- ance ; so, faute (V autre, he thought he Avould go and see him. *' You can got on quite as Avell Avithout me, M'Nab," he said. " 1 think a small cruise Avould do me good. I'll go and see Mr. Stangrove. One often gets an idea by going aAvay from home." " That's true enough," assented M'Nab, "but 1 doubt yon's the wrong slioj) for nev) ones. I\tr. Stangrove is a good sort of man, I hear every one say ; but he hails from the old red- sandstone period (M'Nab knew Hugh Millrr by lioart), IX.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. CI and has no more idea of a swing-gate than a shearing- machine." " Well, one will get a notion of how the Australian Pilgrim Fathers managed to get a livelihood, and subdue the salt-bush for their descendants. There must be a flavour of antiquity abovxt it. I will start to-morrow." After a daylight breakfast, Mr. Redgrave departed, rid- ing old Hassan, and, like a wise man, leading another hackney, with a second saddle, upon which was strapped his valise. " If you w^ant to go anywhere," he was wont to assert, " you want s^few spare articles of raiment." Sitting in boots and breeches all the evening is unpleasant to the visitor and disrespectful to his entertainers, whether he be what the old-fashioned writers called "travel-stained" in wet weather, or uncomfortably warm in the dry season. If you carry the articles alluded to you need a valise. A valise is much pleasanter on a spare horse than in front of your own person ; and all horses go more cheerily in com- pany, particularly as you can divide the day's journey by alternate patronage of either steed. I think life in a general way passes as pleasantly during a journey a cheval as over any other " road of life." Then why make toil of a plea- sure % Always take a brace of hacks, O reader, and then — " Over the downs mayst thou scour, nor mind Whether Horace's mistress be cruel or kind." The sun was no great distance above the far unbroken sky-line ; the air was pleasantly cool as Jack rode quietly along the level track which led to his outer gate, and down the river. The horses played with their bits, stepping along lightly with elastic footfall. " What a different life," thought he, " from my old one at Marshmead ! How full of interest and occupation was every day as it rose ! Neigh- bours at easy distances ; poor old Tunstall to go and poke up whenever John Redgrave failed to suffice for his own entertainment and instruction. Jolly little Hampden, with its picnics and parties, and bench-work, and boat-sailing, and racing, and public meetings, and ' all sorts o' games,' as Mr. Weller said. The bracing climate, the wholesome moral and physical atmosphere, the utter absence of any imp or demon distantly related to the traitor Ennui ; and here, such 92 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [ciiAi'. is the melancholy monotony of my daily life that I find myself setting forth with a distinctly pleasnrtible feeling to visit a man whom I do not know, and very probably shall not like when our acquaintance expands. Auri sacri fames, — shall I quote that hackneyed tag 1 I may as well — the day is long — there is plenty of time and to spare on the Warroo, as Hawkesbury said. Fancy a fellow living this life for a dozen years and vmhiiuj no money after all. The picture is too painfxd. I shall weep over it myself directly — like that arch-humbug Sterne." About half way to his destination was an inn — hostelry of the period ; an ugly slab building covei'ed, as to its roof and verandah, with corrugated iron. There was no trace or hint of garden. It stood as if dropped on the edge of the bare, desolate, sandy plain. It faced the dusty track which did duty as high I'oad ; at the back of the slovenly yard was the I'iver — chiefly used as a convenient receptacle for I'ubbish and broken bottles. A half-score of gaunt, savage-looking pigs lay in the verandah, or stirred the dust and bones in the immediate vicinity of the front entrance. A stout man, in Ci-imean shirt and tweed trousers, stood in the verandah, smoking, and, far from betraying any " pro- vincial eagerness" at the sight of a stranger, went on smoking coolly until Jack spoke. " How far is Mr. Stangrove's place ? " inquired he. " What, Juandah ? " said tlie host, in a tone conveying the idea that in oidinaiy social circles it was on a par, for notoriety, with London or Liverpool. " Well, say thirty mile." " Do you take the })ack road, or the one nearest to the river?" further inipiired -Jack. "Oh, stick to the river bank," answered the man ; "at this time of year it is nearest." " What in the name of wonder," iiKpiirod Jack of himself, as he I'odc away, "can a man do who lives at such a fiag- ment of Hades hut drink ? He must be a Christian hero, or a philositphcr, if he refrain under the iitterly madileiiiiig conditions of life. Were lie one or the other, he probably would not keep the grog-.shop which he dignities with the title of the INIailnian's Arms." Of coiu'se he drinks —it is written in his dull eye and sodden face— his wife drinks, IX.) A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 93 the barman drinks — the loafer who plays at being groom in the hayless, strawless, cornless stable drinks. The shep- herd hands his cheque across the bar — and till every shil- ling, purchased by a year's work, abstinence, and solitude, disappears, drinks — madly drinks. The miserable, debased aboriginal — camping there for weeks with his squalid wives — drinks, and, pei'chance, when his wild blood is stirred by vile liquor, murders ere his fit be over. Fi'om that den, as from a foul octopus, stretch forth tentacula which fasten only upon human beings. Question them, and hear vain re- morse, bitter wi-ath, agonized despair, sullen apathy — the name of one resistless, unsparing ciu'se — drink, drink, drink ! The midday sun was hot. The stage was a fair one ; but Jack pushed on, after receiving his information, for half-a- dozen miles fvirther. Then, discovering a green bend, he unsaddled, and, taking the precaution to hobble his nags, lighted his pipe. They rolled and cropped the fresh herbage, while he enjoyed a more satisfactory noontide lounge than the horsehair sofa of Mr. Hoker's best parlour would have afforded, after a doubtful, or perhaps deleterious, repast. The day was gone when Jack was made aware, by certain signs and hieroglyphics, known to all bushmen, that he was approaching a station. The pasture was closely crojiped and bare. Converging tracks of horses, sheep, and cattle ob- viously trended in one direction. At some distance upon the open plain he could see a shepherd with his flock, slowly moving towards a point of timber more than a mile in advance of his present position. " I shall come upon the paddock fence just inside that timber," he remarked to himself, " and the house will px-obably be within sight of the slip-rails. It will not be a very large paddock, I will undertake to say." This turned owk, to be a correct calculation. He saw the sheep-yard, towards which the flock was heading, as he reached the timber. He descried the paddock fence and the slip-rail in the road ; and within sight — as he put up the rails and mustered a couple of temporary pegs, for fear of accidents — was a roomy wooden building surrounded by a garden. Riding up to the garden gate, he was announced as " Mr. Stranger " by about twenty dogs, who gave the fullest exercise to their lungs, and wovild doubtless have gone even further 9i THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. had Jack been on foot. A tall, sun-burned man, in an old shooting-coat, appeared upon the verandah, and, making straight through the excited pack, greeted Redgrave warudy. " Won't you get off and come in ? I'll take your horses. [Hold your row, you barking fools !] Oh ! it is you, Mr. Redgrave ; from Gondaree, I think — met vou at Bai'rabri — very glad to see you ; of course you have come to stay ? Allow me to take the led horse." " I think I promisee' to look you up some day," said Jack. " I took advantage of a lull in station-work and — here I am." " Very glad indeed you have made your visit out, though I don't know that I have mixch to show you. But, as we are neighbours, we ought to become acquainted." The horses were led over to a small but tolerably snug stable, where they were regaled with hay previous to being turned out in the paddock, and then Jack was ushered into the house. Mr, Stangrove was a married man ; so much was evident from the first ; many traces of the " pug- wuggies, or little pcoj)le," were apparent ; and a girl crossing the yard with a baby in her arms supplied any evidence that might be missing. "Will you have a glass of grog after your ride?" in- quired the host, " or wovxld yovi like to go to your room 1 " Jack preferred the latter, being one of those persons who decline to eat or drink until they are in a comfortable and becoming state of mind and body ; holding it to be neither epicurean nor economical to " muddle away appetite " under circumstances which preclude all pioper and befitting appre- ciation. 80 Redgrave perfoi-med his ablutions, and, having arrayed himself in luxuriously-easy garments and evening shoes, made his way to the sitting-room. He had just concluded " a long, cool drink " when two ladies entered. '* ]\Iy dear, allow me to introduce Mr. Redgrave — Mrs. Stangrove, Miss Stangi-ove." A lady advanced upon the first mention of names and shook hands with the visitor, in a kindly, mialTected manner. She was young, but a cei'tain worn look told of the eai-Iy trials of matronhood. Her face bore silent witness to the toils of housekeeping, with indili'erent servants or none at IX.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 95 all ; to want of average female society ; to a little loneli- ness, and a great deal of monotony. Such, with few excep- tions, is the life of an Australian lady, whose husband lives in the far interior, in the rml bush. Her companion, who contented herself with a searching look and a formal bow, was " in virgin prime and May of womanhood " — and a most fair prime and sweet May it was. Her features were regular, her mouth delicate and refined, with a certain firmness about the chin, and the mutine expression about the upper lip, which savoured of declaration of war upon just pretext. She had that air and expression which at once suggest the idea of interest in unravelling the character. Jack shook hands with himself when he thought of how he had perse- vered after the traitorous idea had entered his head that after all it was no use going, Mr. Stangrove wouldn't be glad to see him, or care a rush about the matter. The evening meal was now announced, which cii'cum- stance afforded Jack considerable satisfaction. He had ridden rather more than fifty miles, and, whereas his horses had not done so badly in the long grass of the " bend," our traveller's lunch had been limited to a pipe of " Pacific Mix- tm^e." All the same, while the preparations for tea were proceeding he took a careful and accui'ate survey of his yovmger feminine neighboiu-. Maud Stangrove was somewhat out of the ordinary run of girls in appearance, as she certainly was in character. Her features were regular, with a complexion clear and delicate to a degree unusual in a southern land. Her mouth, perhaps, denoted a shade more firmness than the ideal prin- cess is supposed to require. But it was redeemed by the frank, though not invariable, smile which, disclosing a set of extremely white and regular teeth, gave an expression of softness and humour which was singularly winning. The eyes were darkest hazel, faintly toned with gray. They were remarkable as a feature ; and those on whom they had shone — in love or war— rarely forgot their gaze ; they were clear and shining ; but this is to say little ; such are the every-day charms of that beauty which is in woman but another name for youth. Maud's eyes had the peculiar quality of developing fresh aspects and hidden mysteries of expression as they fell on you — calm, clear, starlike, but 96 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. fathomless, glowiiij; ever, and with hidden, smouklei'ing fire. She was dressed plainly, but in such taste as betokened reference to a milliner remote from the locality. Rather, but very slightly, above middle height in her figure, there was an absence of angularity which gave promise of even- tual roundness of contour — perhajis even too pronounced. But now, in the flower-time of early womanhood, she moved Avith the unstudied ease of those forest creatures in whom one notices a world of latent foi-ce. Such was the apparition which burst upon the senses of Mr. Redgrave. " Average neighbours ! " said he to himself. " Wlio ever expected this — a vision of no end of fear and interest? This is a girl fit for any one to make love to or to qixarrel with, as the case might be. I think the latter recreation would be the easier. And yet I don't know." " I don't think you have ever been so far ' down the river,' as the people call it, before 1 " said Mrs. Stangrove. " I'm afraid I have not been a very good neighbour," said Jack, beginning to feel contrite at the de haut en has treat- ment of the general population of the Warroo, in accord- ance with which he had devoted himself to unrelieved work at Gondaree, and looked upon social intercourse as com- pletely out of the question. " But the fact is, that I have been very hard at work up to this time. Now the fences are up I hope to have a little leisure." Here Jack paused, as if lie had borne up, like another Atlas, the weiglit of the Gondaree world upon those shapely shoulders of his. Miss Stangrove looked at him with an expression which did not imj)ly total conviction. " We have heard of all your wonders \\\u\ miracles, haven't we, Jane? I don't know wli.it we should have done in the wilderness here without the ( tondarcc news." " I was not aware that 1 was so happy as to furnish in- teresting inciilciits for tlie country generally," answered Jack ; " Init it would have given me fresli life if T liad only thouglit tliat Mrs. and Miss Stangrove were syiiipathetical with my pi-ogress." " You would have been rather flattered, then," said Stan- grove, wlio was a duwiii-ight sort of personage, "if you liad IX.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 97 heard the lamentations of these ladies over your woolshed — indeed, Maud said that " " Come, Mark," said Miss Stangrove, eagerly, and with the very becoming improvement of a sudden blush, " we don't need your clumsy version of all oui* talk for the last year. Nobody ever does anything upon tliis antediluvian stream from one centiu-y to another, and of course Jane and I felt grieved that a spirited reformer Hke Mr. Redgrave shovild meet with so heavy a loss — didn't we, Jane 1 " " Of course we did, my dear," said that matron, placidly; " and Mark, too, he said the wicked men who did it ought to be hanged, and that Judge Lynch was a very useful in- stitution. He was quite ferocious." " Thanks very many ; 1 am sure I feel deeply grateful. I had no idea I had so many well-wishers," quoth Jack, cast- ing liis eyes in the direction of Miss Maud. " It comforts one under affliction and — all that, you know." " How you must look down upon us, with our shepherds and old-world ways," said Maud. "You come from Victoria, do you not, Mr. Redgrave 1 We Sydney people believe that you are all Yankees down there, and wear bowie-knives and guns, and calculate, and so on." " Really, Miss Stangrove," pleaded Jack, " you are indict- ing me upon several charges at once ; which am I to answer 1 I don't look very supercilious, do 1 1 though I admit hailing from Victoria, which is chiefly peopled by persons of British birth, whatever may be the prevailing impression." "Well, you will have an opportunity of discussing the mat- ter — the shepherds, I mean— with my brother, who is a strong conservative. I give you leave to convert him, if you can. We have hitherto found it impossible, haven't we, Mark? " "Mark has generally good reasons for his opinions," said the loyal wife, looking approvingly at her lord and master — who, indeed, was very like a man who could hold his own in any species of encounter. " But suppose we have a little music — you might play La Bouquetiere." " The piano is not so wofully out of tune as might be expected," asserted Maud, as she sat down comfortably to her work, all things being arranged by Jack, who was passionately fond of music — a good deal of which, as of other abstractions, he had in his soul. H 98 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. "Far from it," said he, as the shower of delicate notes which make up this loveliest of airy musical trifles fell on his ear like a melody of le temps perdxh. Jack had all his life been extremely susceptible to the charm of music. He had a good ear, and his taste, naturally correct, had been rather unusually well cultivated. With Mm the elfect of harmony was to bring to the surface, and develop as by a spell, all the best, the noblest, the most exalted portions of his character. Any woman who played or sang with power exercised a species of fascination over him, assuming her personal endowments to be up to his standard. When Miss Stangrove, after passing lightly over caiyriccias of Chopin and Liszt, after a fashion which showed very unusual execution, commenced in deference to his re- peated requests to sing When Sparroivs Build, and one or two other special favourites, in such a mezzo-soprano ! he was surprised, charmed, subjugated — with astonishing celerity. However, the evenings of summer, commencing neces- sarily late, come to an end rather prematurely if we are very pleasantly engaged. So Jack thought when Mr. Stangrove looked at his watch, and opined that Jack after his ride would be glad to retire. Jack was by no means glad, but of course assented blandly, and the two ladies sailed off. " Shall we have a pipe in the verandah before Ave turn in ?" asked his host. " You smoke, I suppose ? We can open this window and leave the glasses on the table here within easy reach." Taking up his position upon a Cingalese cane-chair on the broad verandah, and lighting his pipe simultaneously with his host, Jack leaned back and enjoyed the wondious beauty of the night. The cottage, unlike the Mailman's Arms, fronted the river, towards which a neatly-kept garden sloped, ending in a grassy bank. " My sister belongs to the advanced party of reform, Mr. Redgrave, as you will have observed," said his entertainer. " She and I have numerous fights on tlio subject." " I am proud to have sucli an ally," said Jack ; " but, seriously, 1 wonder you have not been converted. Surely IX.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 99 the profits and advantages of fencing are sufficiently patent." " You must bear with me, my dear sir, as a very staunch conservative," answered his host, smoking serenely, and speaking with his usual calm deliberation. " There is some- thing, I think much, to be said on the other side." "I feel really anxious to hear your arguments," said Jack. "I fancied that beyond what the shepherds always say — that sheep can't do well or enjoy life without a bad-tempered old man and a barking dog at their tails — the brief against fencing was exhausted." " I do not take upon myself to assert," said Stangrove, " that my reasons ought to govern persons whose circum- stances differ from my own. But I find them sufficient for me for the present. I reserve the privilege of altering them upon cause shown. And the reasons are — First of all, that I could not enter into the speculation, for such it would be, of fencing my run without going into debt — a thing I abhor under any circumstances. -Secondly, because the seasons in Australia are exceedingly changeable, as I have had good cause to know. And, thirdly, because the prices of stock are as fluctuating and irregular, occasionally, as the seasons." " Granted all these, how can there be two opinions about an outlay which is repaid within two years, which is more productive in bad seasons than in good ones, and which dis- penses with three-fourths of the labour required for an ordinary sheep-station % " " I have no reason to doubt what you say," persisted Stangrove, " but suppose we defer the rest of the argument until we have had a look at the run and stock together. I can explain my meaning more fully on my own beat. I dare say you will sleep tolerably after your ride." H 2 CHAPTER X. " Absence of occupation is not rest. " — Cowper. Jack went to bed with a kind of general idea of getting up in the morning early and looking round the establishment. But, like the knight who was to be at the postern gate at dawn, he failed to keep the self-made engagement ; and for the same reason he slept so soundly that the sun was toler- ably high when he awoke, and he had barely time for a swim in the river, and a complete toilet, before the break- fast-bell rang. In spite of the baseless superstition that " there is nothing like one's own bed," and so on, it is notorious that all men not confiimed valetudinarians sleep far more satisfactorily away from home. For, consider, one is comparatively freed from the dire demon. Responsibility, you doze olf tranquilly into the charmed I'ealm of dreamland — with " nothing on your mind." Perfectly indifferent is it to you, in the house of a congenial friend or aifable stranger, whether domestic dis- organization of the most frightful nature is smouldering insidiously or hurrying to a climax. The cook may be going next week, the housemaid may have contracted a clandestine marriage. Your host may be steinly revolving plans of retrenchment, and may have determined to abandon light wines, and to limit liis consvmiption to table-beer and alcohol. But nothing of this is revealed to you ; nor would it greatly concern you if it was. For the limited term of your visit, the hospitality is free, smooth, and spontaneous. Atra Cura, if she does accidentally drop in by mistake, is a courteous grande dame, rather plaiidy attired in genteel mourning, ])ut perfect in manner. Not a violent, unreserved shrew as she can bo when quite "at home." A visit is in most CH. X.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 101 instances, therefore, a respite and a truce. The parade, the review, the skirmish are for a time impossible ; so the " tired soldier " enjoys the calm, unbroken repose in his own tent so rarely tasted. The weather was hot, and there did not appear to be any likelihood of a change. Nevertheless, Jack could not but acknowledge that no detail had been omitted to insure the highest amount of comfort attainable in such a climate. The butter was cooled, the coffee perfect, the eggs, the honey, the inevitable chop, excellent of then- kind. Every- thing bore traces of that thorough supei'vision which is never found in a household under male direction. Jack thought Miss Stangrove, charmingly neat and fresh in her morning attire, would have added piquancy to a mvich more homely meal. " Just in time, Mr. Redgrave," said that young lady ; " we were uncertain whether you were not accustomed to be aroused by a gong. Bells are very old-fashioned, we know." " I doubt whether anything would have awakened me an hour since. I am a reasonably early riser generally ; but the ride and the extreme comfort of my bedroom led to a Kttle laziness. But where's Stangrove? " " I blush to say he went off early to count a flock of sheep," said Miss Stangrove, with assumed regret. " You must accustom yourself to our aboriginal ways for a time. But is it not dreadful to think of 1 I hope you extracted a total recantation from him last night." " We only made a commencement of the game last night," said Jack. "Your brother advanced a pawn or two, but we agreed to defer the grand attack imtil after a ride round the run, which I believe takes place to-day." " I am afraid you will have a hot ride ; but I don't pity you for that. Anything is better than staying indoors day after day, week after week, as we wretched women have to do. You might tell Mark if he sees my horse to have her brought in. I feel as if I should like a scamper. Oh ! here he comes to answer for himself. Well, Mark, how many killed, wovinded, and missing 1" " Good morning, Mr. Redgrave," said Stangrove, smiling rather lugubriously at his sister's pleasantry. " I am afraid you are just in time to remark on one of the weak points 102 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. of my management. A sheijberd came before daylight to say that his flock had been lost since the day before. I have been hunting for them these five hours." "And have you brought any home?" inquired Mrs. Stangrove. " None at all," he answered. "Did you see any?" persisted the lady, who seemed rather of an anxious disposition. <' Yes — ten." " And why didn't you bring them 1 " pursued the chate- laine, whose earnestness was in strong contrast with her sister's nonchalance. " Because they were dead," replied Stangrove, laconically ; " and now, my dear, please to give me some tea. ' Suflicient for the day ' — and so on." " Accidents will happen," interposed Jack, politely. " It is like more important calamities and crimes, a matter of average." "Just so," said Stangi-ove, gratefully; "and though I can't help worrying myself at a small loss, such as this, I know that the annual expense from this cause varies very little." "There were wolves in Arcadia, were not there?" de- manded the young lady. " They ate a shepherd now and then, I suppose. If the dingoes would look upoii it in that light, Avhat a joy it would be, eh 1 " " I could cheerfully see thorn battening u})on the carcase of that lazy rullian Strawler," he very vengefully made answer. " My love ! " said Mrs. Stangrove, mildly, " the children will be in directly — woxild you mind reading prayers directly you finish ? " "Well — ahem," said the bereaved proprietor, rather doubtfully ; " perhaps you might as well read this morning, Mr. Itedgiuve and 1 have a long way to go — what are you laughing at, Maud, you naughty girl? " " Don't forget to have old Mameluke got in for me, Mark, and to-morrow I will go shce2)-hunting with you myself, if little Bopeep continues unsuccessful, and in an unchristian state of mind, unable to say his prayers. I didn't think the fencing question involved so high a moral gain before." X.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 103 Breakfast over, two fresh hacks were brought up (Stan- grove was a great horse-breeder, and Jack's eye had been offended as he rode up with troops of mares and foals), and forth they fared for a day on the run, and a contingent search for the lost flock. Stangrove's run was about the same size as Gondaree, but, save the cottages and buildings of the homestead, there were no " improvements" of any kind other than the shepherds' huts. For stock, he had seventeen or eighteen thousand sheep, a herd of cattle, and two or three hvindred horses. These last were within their boundaries in a general way, but were occasionally outside of these merely moral frontiers. So also the neighbouring stock wandered at will inside of the said imaginary subdivisions, " Y^ou see," commenced Stangrove, in explanation, when they were fairly out on the plain, " that I came into possession here some ten years past, jvxst after I had left school. My poor oldgovernor, who was rather a scientific literary character, lived at one of those small comfortable estates near town, where a man can spend lots of money, but can't by any possibility make a shilling. Decent people, in those days, would as soon have gone out to spend a few years with Livingstone as have come to live permanently on the War- roo. We had a surly old overseer, of the old sort, who managed a little and robbed a great deal. When I came here, after the poor old governor died, you never saw such a place as it was." "I can partly imagine," Jack said. " Well, I worked hard, and lived like a black fellow for a few years, got the property out of debt, improved the stock, and here we are. I get a reasonable price for my wool, I sell a draft of cattle now and then, and some horses, and am increasing the stock slowly, and putting by something every year." " No doubt you are," said Jack ; " but here you have to live and keep your wife and family in this out-of-the-way place ; and at the present rate of progress it may be years before you can make money or sell out profitably. Why not concentrate all the work and self-denial into thi"ee or four years — sell out, and enjoy life ] " " A tempting picture — but consider the risk. Debt always 104 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. meaus danger ; and why should I incui' that danger 1 At present I don't owe a shilling, and call no man master. As for happiness, I am not so miserable now (if I could only find those sheep). I have a day's work to do every day, or to decline, if I see fit ; and I would just as soon be here — a place endeared to me by old association — as anywhere else." " But your family 1 " asked Jack, rather insincerely, as he was thinking of Maud chiefly, and the stupendous sacrifice of /ler life. " But," he said, " your children are growing up." " Yes, but only growing up. By the time they need masters and better schooling I shall be a little better off. Some change will probably take place — stock will rise — or it will rain for two or three years without stopping, as is periodically probable in New South Wales ; and then I shall sell, go back to the paternal acres in the county of Cumberland, and grow jirize shorthorns and gigantic cucumbers, and practise all the devices by which an idle man cheats himself into the belief that he is happy." " By which time you will have lost most of the zest for the choicer pleasures of life." " Even so — but I am a gi-eat believer in the ' in that state of life ' portion of the catechism. I was placed and appointed here, and hold myself responsible for the safety and gradual increase of my * one talent.' Maud, too, has a share. I am compelled to be a stern guardian in her interest." " Well," returned Jack (after his companion had opened his mind, as men often do in the bush to a chance acquaintance — so rare ofttimes is the luxury of congeniality), " I am not sure that you are .altogether wrong. It squares with your temperament. Mine is altogether opposed to such views. I think twenty yeai^s on the Warroo, with the certainty of a plum and a baronetcy at the end, Avould kill me as surely as sunstroke. Isn't that sheep 1 " As Jack propounded this grammatically doubtful query, he directed Stangrove's attention to a long light-coloured line at a distance. It was soon evident that it was sheep coming towards them. To Stangrove's great relief, they proved to be the missing flock, in chai-ge of one of the volunteers sent out in all directions, if only they might pei'chance manage to drop across them. Upon being counted they wei-e only fifteen sliort Ten being accounted for by the domestic declaratiou of Mr. X.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 105 Stangrove, the other five were left to take their chance, and the tlock sent back to a new shepherd, vice Strawler superseded. Stangrove brightened up considerably after this recovery of his doubtfully-situated property. Byron asserts "a sullen son, a dog ill, a favourite horse fallen lame just as he's mounted," to be " trifles in themselves," but adds, "and yet I've rarely seen the man they didn't vex." So with lost sheep. You must lose a dozen or twenty — you hardly lose more than fifty, say from ten to five-and-twenty pounds — not a sum to turn the scale of ruin by any means. Yet, from the time that the announcement is made of " sheep away " until they are safely counted and yarded, rarely does the face of the proprietor relax its expression of weighty resolve and grave foreboding. Jack fovmd by his companion's avowal that at least one person besides Bertie Tunstall held the same unprogressive but eminently safe opinions. " Here's a man," said Jack, " with a worse climate, far less recreation and variety than I had, and see how he sticks to his fight ! However, I am differently constituted — there's no denying it. If Stan- grove's father had not been somewhat of the same kidney, he and I would have had little chance of discussing ouv theories on the banks of the Warroo." " And so you won't be tempted into fencing 1 " demanded Jack, returning to the charge. " Not just at present," rejoined Stangrove. "I do not say but that if I find myself surrounded by fencing neigh- bours, willing to share the expense and so on, in a few more years I may give in. But I am a firm believer in the Safe. I am now in a position of absolute security, and I intend to continu.e in it." " But suppose bad seasons come 1 " " Let them ! I have no bills to meet. I can weather them again as I have done before, when on this very station we had to boil down our meat to a kind of soup ; it was too poor to eat otherwise. We outlived that. Please God, we shall do so again." " I suppose you had terrible losses 1 " " You may say that ; if another season came like it, the country would be ' a valley of dry bones,' literally. But even fe 106 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. if I lost all my increase for a year, and a proportion of my old stock, it would only shake me, not break me. A man who is in debt it cooks altogether — that is the difference." " Well, let us hope that such times won't come again," said Jack, beginning to be unpleasantly affected by the idea of an interview with Mr. Shrood, in which he should be compelled to inform him that the season had been fatal to his whole crop of lambs, and the greater part of his aged ewes. "Every one says the seasons have changed, and that the climate is more moist than it used to be." " I am not so sure of that," said his host, who was not prone to take much heed of " what everybody said." " I see no very precise data upon which to found such an asser- tion. What has been may be again. We shall have another dry season within the next five years, as sure as my name is Mark Stangrove. What do you think of those horses ? That is rather a fancy mob. I see Maud's horse Mameluke among them. We must run them in." " How do you reconcile it to your conscience to keep such unprofitable wretches as horses ] " inquired Jack, " eating the grass of sheep and cattle, and being totally unsaleable themselves, unfit to eat, and hardly worth boiling down." " I am grieved to appear so old-fashioned and ignorant," said Mark, " but I have a sentiment about these horses, and really they don't pay so badly. They are the direct descend- ants, now numbered by hundreds, of an old family stud. They cost nothing in the way of labovir ; they need no shep- herd or stockman : they are simply branded up every year. You couldn't drive them off the run if you tried. And every now and then there springs up a demand, and I clear a lot of them off. It is all found money, and it tells up." " Meanwhile, the grass they eat would feed ten thousand sheep." " That is perfectly true ; but of com-se I make no scruple of putting the sheep on their favourite haunts when hard up. Horses, you see, can pick up a living anywhere. Besides, I have always ren)ai'ked that each of the groat divisions of stock has its turn once or twice in a decade, if not oftener. You have only, therefore, to wait, and you get your ' j)ull.' My next ' pull ' with the stud will be when the Indian horse market has to be supplied I)y us, as it must some day." 5.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 107 " You seem a good hand at waiting," said Jack, " I don't know but that your philosophy is sound. I can't put faith in it however." " Everything comes to him who waits, as the French adage goes," said Stangrove. " I have always found it tolerably correct. However here we are at home. So we'll put this lot into the yard, and I'll lead up the old horse with a spare rein. "We must have a ride out to Murdering Lake to- morrow ; it's our show bit of scenery." "Another eventful day over, Mr. Redgrave," said Maud, as they met at the tea-table. " Yesterday the sheep were lost ; to-day the sheep are found. So passes our life on the Warroo." " You'i-e an ungrateful, naughty girl, Maud," said Mrs. Stangrove. " Think how relieved poor Mark must be after all his hard work and anxiety. Suppose he had lost a hundred." " I feel tempted to wish sometimes that every one of the ineffably stupid woolly creatures zvere lost for good and all, if it would only lead to our going ' off the run ' and having to live somewhere else. Only 1 suppose they are our living, besides working up into delaines and merinos — so I ought not to despise them. But it's the life I despise — shepherd, shearer, stockman — day after day, year after year. These, with rare exceptions (here she made a mock respectful bow to Jack), are the only people we see, or shall ever see, till we are gray." " You are rather intolerant of a country life. Miss Stan- grove," said Jack. " I always thought that ladies had domestic duties and — and so on — which filled up the vacuum, with a daily routine of small but necessary employments." " Which means that we can sew all day, or mend stockings, weigh out plums, currants, and sugar for the puddings— and that this, with a little nursing sick children, pastry-making, gardening, and ver^ judicious reading, ought to fill up our time, and make us peacefully happy." " And why should it not ? " inquired Mark, looking earnestly at his sister, as if the subject was an old one of debate between them. " How can a woman be better em- ployed than in the duties you sneer at 1 " " Do you really suppose," said Maud, leaning forward and 108 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chak looking straight into iiis face with lier histrous eyes, in which the opaHne gleam began to glow and sparkle, " that women do not wish, like men, to see the world, of which they have only dreamed — to mix a little change and adventure with tlie skim-milk of their lives — before they calm down into the stagnation of middle age or matrimony ? " "I won't say what I suppose about women, Maud," re- joined her brother. " Some things I know about them, and some things I don't know. But, believe me, those women do best in the long run who neither thirst nor long for pleasures not afforded to them by the circumstances of their lives. If Avhat they desire should come, well and good. If not, they act a more womanly and Christian part in waiting with humility till the alteration arrives." "What do you say, Mr. Redgrave?" asked the uncon- vinced damsel. '* Is it wrong for the caged bird to droop and pine, or ought it to turn a tiny wheel and pull up a tiny pail of nothing contentedly all its days, unmindful of the gay greenwood and the shady brook ; or, if it beat its breast against the wires, and lie dead Avhen the captor comes with seed and water, is it to be mourned over or cast forth in scorn 1 " " Ton my word," an^vered Jack, helplessly, rather over- awed by the strong feeling and earnest manner of the girl, and much " demoralized " by those wonderful eyes of hers, " I hardly feel able to decide. I'm a great lover of adven- ture and change and all that kind of thing myself; can't live without it. But for ladies, somehow, I x-eally— a — feel inclined to agree with your brother. Sphere of home — and — all that, you know." " Sphere of humbug ! " answered she, with all the sincerity of contempt in her voice. " You men stick together in advocating all kinds of intolcrublf dreariness and nonsensical ti-eadmill work because you think it good for women ! You would be ashamed to apply such reasoning to anything bear- ing on your own occupations. But I will not say another word on the subject ; it alwiiys raises my temper, and that is not permitted to our sex, 1 know. Did you see my dear old Mameluke to-day, Mark 1 " " Yes, and he's now in the stable." " Oh, thanks ; we must have a gallop to-morrow and show X.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 109 Mr. Redgrave our solitary landscape. That will be one I'ipple on the Dead Sea." Life seemed capable of gayer aspects, even upon the Warroo, as next morning three residents of that far region rode lightly along the prairie trail. The day was cool and breezy ; a great wind had come roaring up from the south the evening before, crashing thi'ough the far woods and audible in mighty tones for many a mile before it stirred the streamers of the couba trees, as they all sat under the verandah in the sultry night. Then the glorious coolness of the sea-breeze, almost the savour of the salt sea-foam and of the dancing wavelets, smote upon their revived senses. Hence, this day was cool, bracing, with a clear sky and a sighing breeze. Jack was young, and extremely susceptible. Maud Stangrove was a peerless horsewoman, and as she caused Mameluke, a noble old fleabitten gray, descendant of Satellite, to plunge and caracole, every movement of her supple figure, as she swayed easily to each playful bound, completed the sum of his admiration and submission. " Oh, what a day it is ! " said she. " "Why don't we have such weather moi^e often 1 I feel like that boy in JVick of the Woods, when he jumps on his horse to ride after the travellers whom the Indians are tracking, and who shouts out a war-whoop from pure glee and high spirits. ' Wagh ! wagh ! wagh ! wagh ! ' Don't you remember it, Mr. Red- grave 1 " " Oh yes, quite well." Jack had read nearly all the novels in the world, and, if any good could have been done by a competitive examination in light reading, would have come out senior wrangler. " N^ick of the Woods was very powerfully written — that is, it was a good book ; so was the Hawhs of Hawk Hollow. Dick Bruce was the boy's name." " Of course. I see you know all about him, and Big Tom Bruce is the one that was shot, and didn't tell them that he had a handful of slugs in his breast till after the Indian town is taken, and then he falls down, dying. Grand fellow, is not he % Nothing of that sort in our wretched country, is there % " " We had a little fighting at that Murdering Lake we are going to," said Mai'k. " jSTothing very wonderful. But my horse was speared under me, and he remembered it for the no THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. rest of his life. Red Bob ivas killed ; however, as he said before he died, it wasn't ' twenty to one, or anything near it.' He had shot scores of blacks, if his own and others' tales were true." " And why were you engaged in your small war, INIaster Mark % " demanded Maud. " It's all very well to talk about Indians, and so on, but what had these miserable natives done to you % " "They were not so miserable in those days," said her brother ; " this tribe was strong and numei'ous. I would have shirked it if possible ; but they speared a lot of the cattle and one of the men. We had to fight or give them up the run." " The old story of Christianity and civilization 1 However I know you wovild not have hurt a hair of their red-ochred locks if you could have avoided it. Indeed, I wonder you kept your own scalp safe in those days. The most simple savage might have circumvented you, I'm sure, you good, easy-going, unsuspicious, conscientious old goose that you are." Here another expression, which Jack preferred much to those more animated glances which opposition had called forth, came over her features ; as she gazed at her brother a soft light seemed gradually to ai-ise and overspread her whole countenance, till her eyes rested Avith an expression of deep unconscious tenderness upon the bronzed, calm face of Mark Stangrovo. " I wonder if anything in the whole world could lead to her looking at me like that? " thought Jack. " This is the place. ' Stand still, my steed,' " quoted Maud, as she reined up Mameluke upon a pine-crested sand-hill, after a couple of hours' riding. " There you can just see the water of the lake. Isn't it a pretty place ? The pretty place, I should say, as it is the only bit with the slightest pretension upon tlie whole dusky green and glaring red patch of desert which we call our run." It was, in its way, assuredly a pretty place. The waters were clear, and had the hue of the undimmed azure, as they gently lapped against the grassy Ijanks. Around was a fringe of dwarf eucalypti, more spreading and umbrageous than their congeners are apt to be. On the further side was x] A STOEY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. Ill a low sand-hill with a thicker covering of shrubs. A drove of cattle were feeding near ; a troop of half-wild horses had dashed off at their approach, and were rapidly receding in a long, swaying line in the distance. A blue crane, the Australian heron, flew with a harsh cry from the shallows, and sailed onward with stately flight. " Oh for a falcon to throw off ! " cried Maud, whose spirits seemed quite irrepressible. " Why cannot I be a young lady of the feudal times, and have a hawk, with silken jesses, and a page, and a castle, and all that 1 Surely this is the stupidest, most prosaic country in the world. One would have thought that in a savage land like this they would have devoted themselves to every kind of sport, whereas I firmly believe one would have more chance of hunting, shooting, or fishing in Cheapside. Why did I ever come here 1 " she pursued in a voice of mock lamentation. " Because you were born here, you naughty girl," said Mark ; " are you not ashamed to be always running down your native country 1 Don't I see a fire on the far point ? " They rode round the border of the lake, scaring the plover and the wild fowl which swam or flew in large flocks in the shallows. When they reached the spot where the small cape formed by the sand advanced boldly into tlie waters of the lake at the eastern side, they observed that the fire apper- tained to a small camp of blacks. Hiding close up, the unmoved countenance of " old man Jack " appeared with his two aged wives, while at a little distance, superintending the boiling of certain fish, was the girl Wilddcuk. She turned to them with an expression of unaffected pleasure, and, I'ushing up to Miss Stangrove, greeted her with the most demonstrative marks of affection. Suddenly beholding Redgrave, she looked rather surprised ; then, bestowing a searching look of inquiry upon him, she made her usual half-shy, half-arch, salutation. " So Wildduck is a protegee of yours, Miss Stangrove," said Jack ; "I had no idea she had such distinguished patronage." " Maud is a bit of a missionary in her way," said Mark ; " though perhaps you might not tliink it. Many a good hour she has wasted over the runaway scamp of a gin, and a Httle rascal of a black boy we had." 112 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM. [chap. " Poor things ! " said Maud, with quite a diffei'ent tone from her ordinary badinage. " They have souls, and why should one not try to do them a little good ! I am very fond of this Wildduck, as she is called, though Kalingeree is her real name. I remember her quite a little girl. Isn't she a pretty creature 1 — not like gins genei-ally are." " She is wonderfully good-looking," said Jack ; " I thought so the first time I saw her — when she was galloping after a lot of horses." " I am afraid her stock-keeping propensities have led her into bad company," said Maud ; " and yet it is but a natural passion for the chase in the nearest approach the bush affords. I can't help feeling a deep interest in her. You wouldn't believe how clever she is." " She looks to me very much thinner than she used to be," said Mark. "How large her eyes seem, and Sebright. I'm afraid she will die young, like her mother." "She has been ill, I can see," said Maud, as the girl coughed, and then placed her hand upon her chest, with a gcstui'e of pain, " What has been the matter with you, Wildduck r' " Got drunk, Miss Maudie ; lie out in the rain," said the girl, who was as realistic as one of — let us say — Rhoda Broughton's heroines. " Oh, Wildduck ! " said her instructress ; " how could you get tipsy again, after all I said to you ? " " Tipsy ! " said the child of nature, with a twinkle of wicked mirth in her large bright eye — " tipsy ! me likum tij^sy ! " Mark and his guest were totally unable to retain their gravity at this unexpected answer to Miss Stangrove's appeal, though Jack composed his countenance with great rapidity as he noticed a deeply-pained look in Maud's face, and something like a tear, as she hastily turned away. " Are the old miamis there still, Wildduck % " asked Mark, by way of tm^ning the subject. "Where you shoot l)lack fellow, long ago?" asked she. " By gum, you peppered 'em that one day. You kill 'em — one — two — Misser Stangrove." " No, I think not, Wildduck. 1 fired my gun all about. X.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 113 Dou't think I killed anybody. Black fellow spear Red Bob that day." "Aha ! " said the girl, her face suddenly changing to an expression of passion. " Serve him right, the murdering dog. He kill poor black fellows for nothing ; shoot gins, too, and picaninnies ; ask old man Jack." Here she said a few words rapidly in her own language to the old man. The effect was instantaneous. He sprang up — he seized his spear — his eyes suddenly assumed a fixed and stony stare — with raised head he strode forward with all the lightness and activity of youth. He muttered one name repeatedly. Then his expression changed to one of horrible exultation. " I believe old man Jack was there," said Mark. " Per- haps he threw the spear that hit me." " Dono," said Wiklduck ; "might ha' been. He'd have done it quick if he had, I know that." A spring cart with luncheon had been sent on at an early hour, and commanded to camp close by the deserted miamis, which had never been inhabited since the battle. Leaving their sable friends, with an invitation to come iip and receive the fragments, they rode over to the spot indicated. " Give me the hobbles," said Mark to the lad who drove the spring cart. " You can lay the cloth and set the lunch." CHAPTER XI. " The Phantom Knight, his glory fled, Mourns o'er the lields he heaped with dead." — Scott. Jack had the privilege of lifting Maud from her horse, and then their thi'ee nags were unsaddled and hobbled. Kejoicing in this "constitutional freedom," they availed them- selves of it to the extent of drinking of the lake, rolling in the sand, and cropping with relish the long grass which only grew on the lake-side. " Here is the very spot — liow strange it seems ! " said Mark, " that we should be drinking bottled ale and eating fdtes defoie gras just where spears were flying and guns volleying. It was night, however, when we made our charge. We had been tracking all day, and were guided by their fii-es latterly." " Did they make much of a fight 1 " asked Jack. " They were plucky enough for a while. Our party had a few nasty wounds. They had some advantage in throw- ing their spears, as they Avere close, and we could not see them as well as they saw us. Poor old J3ob ! the spear that killed him was a long slender one. It went nearly through him. They took to the lake at last." "And have they never inhabited these miamis since?" asked Maud. " Never, from that day to this. Blacks are very super- stitious. They believe in all kinds of demons and spirits. You ask Wildduck when she comes up." They walked over the " dark and bloody ground " when the repast was over. Tliere were the ruined wigwams just as their occupants had iled from them at the first volley of their white foes, nearly a generation since. Marks of baste were apparent. The wooden buckets used for Avater, and CH. XI.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 115 scooped from the bole of a tree, a boomerang or two, a broken spear, mouldered away together. " The situation," said Jack, " is not without a tinge of romance. This isn't particularly like Highland scenery ; and blacks always return and carry off their dead, if pos- sible ; otherwise Sir Walter's lines might stand fairly descriptive — " ' A dreary glen — Where scattered lay the bones of men, In some forgotten battle slain, And bleached by drifting wind and rain.' " " It must be a terrible thing in a deed like this not to be quite certain whether one was in the right or not. Tery likely some of those buccaneers of stockmen provoked this tribe, if you only knew it, Mark." " Perhaps they did, my dear — more than likely. But Ave had only plain facts to go upon. They were killing our cattle and servants. We did not declare war. It was the other way. Injustice may have been done, but my con- science is clear." " There comes old man Jack, and Mrs. old man Jack, collectively," said Redgrave. " Let us hear what they say about it." Slowly, and with sad countenances, the little band ap- proached, and sat down at a short distance from the luncheon. They were regaled with the delicacies of civiliza- tion. Maud administered port wine to Wildduck, and, guardedly, to old Nannie. The others declined the juice of the grape, but partook freely of the eatables. '' Now, then, Wildduck," said Redgrave, " tell us any- thing you know about this battle. Your people never lived here since 1 " "Never, take my oath," said Wildduck, "never no more — too many wandings (demons). One black fellow sleep there one night, years ago ; he frighten to death — -close up. He tell me " " What did he tell you, Wildduck ? " said Maud. " Well," began the girl, sitting down on her heels in the soft grass, " he was out after cattle and ti'acked 'em here at sundown. So he says, ' I'll camp at the old miamis, blest if I don't. Baal me frighten,' he say. Well, he lie T ^ 1 .J 116 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. down long a that middle big one miami and go fast asleep. In the middle of the night he wake up. All the place v)as full of blacks. Plenty — plenty," spreading out both her hands. " They ran about with spears, and womrahs, and heilaman. Then he saw white fellows, and fire came out of then* guns. Very dark night. Then a white fellow, big man with red hair, fire twice — clear light shine, and he saw a tall black fellow send spear right through him. He say," said the gii-1, lowering her voice, "just like old man Jack." " This is something like the legitimate drama. Miss Stan- grove," said Jack. " You see there is more good, solid tragedy in Australian life than you fancied." " Go on, Wildduck," said she. " What a strange scene — only to imagine ! What happened then 1 " "When white fellow fall down, the tall black fellow give a great jump, and shout out, only he hear nothing. Then all the blacks make straight into the lake. He look again — all gone — -he hear 'possum, night-owl — that's all." " And do you believe he saw anything really, Wildduck 1 Come now, tell the truth," cross-examined Mark. " Well, Charley, big one, frighten ; I see that myself. But he took a bottle from the Mailman's Arms, and he'd never wait till he saw the bottom — I know that. Here come old man Jack ; he look very queer, too." The old savage had begun to walk up towards tlie spot where they had gathered rather closely together in the interest of Wildduck's legend. There was, as she had said, something strange in his appearance. He walked in a slow and stately manner ; he held him- self unusually erect. From time to time he glanced at the old encampmont, then at the lake. His face lit up with the fire of strong passion, and then he would mutter to him- self, as if recalling the past. "Ask him what he is thinking about, Wildduck," said Mark. The girl sjjoke a few words to the old man. It was the philter that renews youth, the memory of the passionate past. He stalked forward with the gait of a warrior. Shaking ofE tlie fetters of ago, he trod lightly upon the well- known scene of conflict, with upraised liead and lifted hand. Words issued from his lips with a fiery energy, such as none present had ever witnessed in him. XI.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 117 "He say," commenced Wildduck, "this the place where his tribe fight the white man, long time ago. Misser Stan- grove young feller then. Many black fellow shot — so many — so many (here she spread out her open palms). By and by all run into lake." " Does he remember Red Bob being killed 1 " asked Maud. " Red "VVanding," cried the girl, still translating the old man's speech, which rolled forth in faltering and passionate tones, " he knew well ; that debil-debil shoot picaninny be- longing to him — little girl — ' poor little girl ' he say. (Here the gray chieftain threw up his arms wildly towards the sky, while hot tears fell from the eyes still glaring with unsated wrath and revenge.) He say, before that he always friend to white fellow — no let black fellow spear cattle." "Ask him Avhere he was himself that night," said Mark, The inquiry was put to him. Old man Jack replied not for a few moments ; then he walked slowly forward to a large hollow log of the slowly-rotting eucalyptus, which had lain for a score of years scarce perceptibly hastening on its path of slow decay. Stooping suddenly, he thrust in his long arm and withdrew a speai". It was mouldering with age, but still showed by its sharpened point and smoothed edges how dangerous a weapon it had been. He felt the point, touched a darkened stain which reached to a foot from the end, and, suddenly throwing himself with lightning-like rapidity into the attitude of a thrower of the javelin, shouted a name thrice with a demoniac malevolence which curdled the hearts of the hearers. He then snapped the decayed lance, and, throwing the pieces at Mark's feet with a softened and humble gestui*e, relapsed into his old mute, emotionless manner, and strode away along the border of the lake. "He say," concluded Wildduck, with a half confidential manner, " that he spear Red Bob that night with that one spear. He hide 'em in log, and never see it again till this day." " Some secrets are well kept," said Mark. "If it had been known within a few years after the fight, old man Jack would have been shot half a dozen times over. Now, no one would think of avenging Red Bob's death more 118 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. than that of Julius Caesar. After all, it was a fair fight ; and I believe old man Jack's story." " Well, I shall never laugh at bush warfare again," said Maud ; " there is sad earnest sufficient for anybody in this tale." *' We may as well be tiu-ning our horses' heads home- ward. Wildduck, you come up to-morrow and get some- thing for your cough." " Come up now," accepted Wildduck, Avith great prompti- tude. " Too much frightened of Wanding to-night to stop here." A brisk gallop home shook off some of the influences of their somewhat eerie adventure. Maud strove to keep up the lively tone of her ordinary conversation, but did not wholly succeed. Her subdued bearing rendered her, in Jack's eyes, more irresistible than before. He was rapidly approaching that helpless stage Avhen, in moods of grave or gay, a man sees only the absolute perfection of his ex- emplar of all feminine graces. From the last pitying glance which Maud bestowed on Wildduck, to the frank kiss which she so lovingly pressed on Mameluke's neck as she dismounted. Jack only recognized the rare combination of lofty sentiment with a warm and affectionate nature. Next morning Jack was inider mavcliing orders. He had left M'Nab sufficiently long liy himself, in case anything of the nature of work turned up. He had secured an ex- tremely pleasant change from the monotony of home. He had, most undenial)ly, acquired one or more new ideas. How regretfully he saw Mark finish his breakfast, and wait to say good-bye, preparatory to a long day's ride after those eternal shephei'ds ! " You must come and see us again," said Mrs. 8tangrove, properly careful to retain the acquaintance of an agreeable neighbour and an eligible ]jarti. " You have no excuse now. We shall not believe in the use and value of your fencing if it won't provide you with a little leisure sometimes." " You must all come and see me before shearing," re- joined he. " I shall make a stand on my rights in etiquette, and refuse to come again before you have ' returned my call,' as ladies say. I liave several novelties beside the XI.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 119 fencing to show, which might interest even ladies. I hope you won't give Stangrove any rest till he promises to bring you." " We have a natural curiosity to see all the new world you are reported to have made," Maud said, "and even your model overseer, Mr. M'Nab. He must surely be one of the ' coming race,' and have any quantity of ' vril ' at command. I suppose the land will be filled with such products of a higher civilization after we early Arcadians are abolished." " You must come and see, Miss Stangrove. I will tell you nothing. M'Nab is the ideal general-of -division in the grand army of labour, to my fancy. But whether it is to be Waterloo or Walcheren the future must decide. Au revoir / " He shook hands with Stangrove, and, mounting, departed with his brace of hackneys for the trifling day's ride between there and home. Truth to tell, he tested the mettle of his steeds much more shrewdly than in his leisurely downward course. It was nearer to eight hom\s than nine when he reined up before the home-paddock gate of Gondaree. Returning to one's own particular abode and domicile is not always an unmixed joy, however much imaginative writers have insisted upon the aspect. *' The watchdog's honest bay " occasionally displays a want of recognition calculated to irritate the sensitive mind. Evidence is some- times forced upon the unwilling revenant of the proverbial and unwarrantable playing of mice in the absence of the lord of the castle, who is thereby unpleasantly reminded that he occupies substantially the position of the cat. Pos- sibly he is greeted with the unwelcome announcement that an important business interview has lapsed by reason of his absence. It may be that he finds his household absent at an entertainment, thus causing him to moralize upon deso- late hearthstones and shattered statuettes, while he is gloomily performing for himself the minor ofiices so promptly bestowed on more fortunate arrivals. Or fate, being in one of her dark moods — a subtle prescience of evil, only too true — meets him on the threshold, and he enters his home as chief mourner. " Happy whom none of these befall;" and in such cheer did our hero find himself when, after hurried inquiry, it transpired that " nothing had happened," 120 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM ; [chap. that everything was going on as well as could be, and that Mr. M'Nab was out at the woolshed (No. 3), and had left word that he would be in at sundown. " So everything has gone on well in my absence," said Jack to his lieutenant, as they sat placidly smoking after the evening meal. " I began to be a little nervous as I got near home, though why it should be I can't say." *' So well," answered M'Nab, '' that if it were not for the woolshed there would be too little to do. Once a month is often enough to muster the paddocks, and the percentage of loss has been very trilling. The sheep are in tip-top con- dition. The clip will be good and very clean. I hope we are past our troubles." " I hope so too," echoed Jack. " How many sheep are there in the river paddock 1 " " Nine thousand odd. You never saw anything like them for condition." " Isn't there a risk in having them there at this time of year ? The river miyht come down ; and Stangrove told me the greater part of that paddock is under water in a big flood." " Plenty of time to get them out. If the worst came we could soon rig a temporary bridge over the anabranch creek." " People about here say," objected Jack, " that when a real flood comes down all sorts of places are filled which you wouldn't expect ; and sheep are the stupidest things — except pigs — that ever were tried in water and a liurry." " You needn't be uneasy ; I'll have them out of that hours before there is any danger," said M'Nab, confidently. " Meanwhile, if they don't use the feed the travelling stock will only have the benefit of it. What did you think of Mr. Stangrove's place, sir? " "I was agreeably surprised," said Jack, with an air of much gravity. "The whole affair is old-fashioned, of course ; but the stock are very good, in fine order, and everything about the place very neat and nice. Mr. Stangrove and his family are exceedingly nice people." " So I've heard," said M'Nab. " So I believe (as if that was a point so unimportant as to merit the merest assent) ; but the Run ! — the run is one of the best and largest on XI.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 121 the river, and to think of its being thrown away upon less than twenty thousand slieep, a thousand head of cattle, and a few mobs of rubbishy horses ! " "Dreadful, isn't it?" said Jack, smiling at M'Nab's righteous indignation ; " but Stangrove is one of those men who thinks he has a right to do what he wills with his own. And really he has something to say for himself." " I can't think it, sir ; I can't think it," asserted the stern utilitarian. "The State ought to step in and interfere when a man is clearly wasting and misusing the public lands. I'd give all the shepherding, non-fencing men five years' warning ; if at the end of that time they had not contrived to fence and dig wells the country should be resumed and let by tender to men who would work the Crown lands decently and profitably." " You're rather too advanced a land-reformer," said his employer. " You might have the tables turned upon you by the farmers. However, you can argue the point of evic- tion with Mr. Stangrove, who will be here with the ladies, I hope, before shearing. But he has fought for his land once, and I feel sure would do so again if need were. Still I think he will be rather astonished at our four boundary riders." The first necessity was an inspection of the new wool- shed, which was raising its unpretending form, like a species of degenerate phcenix, from the ashes of its glorious predecessor. It was strong and substantial, full of neces- sary conveniences — good enough — but not the model edifice — the exemplar of a district, the pride of Lower Riverina. !Now befell a halcyon time of a coviple of months of Jack's existence, during which the millennium, as far as Gondaree was concerned, seemed to have arrived. The weather was perfect ; there was just enough rain, not more than was needed to "freshen up" the pasture from time to time. There were ten thousand fat sheep ; the lambing had commenced, and prospects were splendid. Better than all, the reactionary reign of economy directly proceeding from M'Nab's well-calculated outlay had set in. With forty-two thousand "countable" sheep and twenty thousand lambing ewes, " in full blast," there were but the four boundary riders, M'jSTab, the cook, and Ah Sing, plus 122 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. the shed workmen. " This was something like," Jack said to himself. " Fancy the small army I should have billeted upon me if I were like Stangrove, and had the same pro- portion of hands to employ. The very thought of it is madness, or insolvency — which comes to the same thing." " i really believe we could do with even fewer hands upon a pinch," said M'Nab. "Ah Sing is of course a luxury, though a justifiable one. The boundary-riders come in for their own rations, so a ration-carrier is unnecessary. The two that live at the homestead cook for themselves. There is next to no work in the store till shearing ; you or I can give out anything that is wanted. The cook chops his own wood, and fetches it in once a week ; water is at the door. If it were not for having to convoy travelling sheep, one man could watch and the rest go to sleep till shearing. There are no dingoes, and w-e have no township near us to breed tame dogs. Next year we must have thirty thousand lambing-sheepby hook or by crook, and then you may put Gondar^e into the market with sixty thousand sheep as soon after as you please." " What about these ten thousand fat sheep 1 " said Jack. " Isn't it time we were thinking of drafting and sending them on the road ? " " If I were you, Mr. Redgrave, I would not sell them, unless you were obliged, till after shearing. They are worth from twelve to fourteen shillings all round in Mel- bourne, let us say. Well, the wethers will cut six shiUings' worth of wool, and tlie ewes five. It Avould pay you to shear them and sell them as store sheep." " That's all very well ; but if you don't sell at the proper time I always notice that it ends in keeping them for another year ; by which you lose interest, and risk a fall in the market." " Not much chance of sheep falling below ten shillings," rejoined INI'Nab. " We can send them in very prime about Marcli. We may just as soon make one expense of the shearing." " Well," yielded Jack, " I dare say it won't make much difference. Wo shall have it— the clip — and if they only fetch ten shillings there will bo a profit of five and twenty XI.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 123 per cent. They don't cost anything for shepherding, that's one comfort." So matters wore on till July. To complete the astonish- ing success and enjoyment of the situation, Jack received a letter from Stangrove, to say that he was going to drive over, and would bring the ladies for a day's visit to Gondaree. Jack's cup well-nigh overflowed. To think of having her actually in the cottage, under his very roof — to have the happiness of beholding her walking about the garden and homestead, criticising everything, as she would be sure to do. Perhaps even appreciating, with that clear intellect of hers, the scope and breadth of the system of manage- ment, of his life pleasures even. Could she be won to take an interest, then what delirious, immeasurable joy ! Preparations Avere made. A feminine supernumerary was secured from the woolshed camp. Fortunately the cook was undeniable, and he needed but a word to " impress himself " and execute marvels. The cottage was entirely given up to the ladies, and the bachelors' quartei-s made ready for occupa- tion by Stangrove, M'Nab, and himself. So might they retire, and smoke and talk sheep ad libitum. The small flower-garden round the cottage, or rather at the side, as its verandah almost overhung the river, was made neat. Even M'Nab, though grumbling somewhat at a feminine invasion " just before shearing," looked out his best suit of clothes, and prepared to abide the onset. Had there ever been a lady at Gondaree before 1 Jack began to consider. It was ex- ceedingly doubtful. At the appointed day, just before sundown, Stangrove's buggy rattled up behind, as usual, a very fast pair of horses. He was a great man for pace, and, having lots of horses to pick out of, generally had something only slightly inferior to public performers. Indeed, his friends used to complain that he never could be got to stay a night with any one on the road — being always bent upon some impossible distance in the day, and insisting upon going twenty or thirty miles farther, in order to accomplish it. However that might be, no man drove better horses. " Here we are at last, Redgrave," said he, as Jack rushed out to satisfy himself that Maud was actually in the flesh at his gates. ""\Vc should have been here before, but the 124 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. ladies, of course, kept me waiting. However, I think we've done it under seven hours — that's not so bad." " Bad ! I should think not — splendid going ! " said Jack. " 1 must get you to sell me a pair of buggy horses ; mine are slow enough for a poison cart. Mrs. Stangrove, how good of you to cheer up a lonely bachelor ! Miss Stangrove, I thi'ow myself and houseliold on your mercy. Will you, ladies, deign to Avulk in ] you will find an attendant, and take possession of my house and all that is in it. Stangrove, we must take out the nags ourselves ; no spare hands on a fenced-in run, you perceive." " All right, liedgrave, that's the style I like. Mind you keep it up." The stable was well found, thougli the groom was absent. Abundance of hay had been supplied, and the buggy was placed under cover. The friends were soon sauntering down by the river, and of course talking sheep, in the interval before dinner. " Saw a lot of your weaners as we came along," said Stan- grove. " How well they look. Much larger than mine, and the wool very clean. It certainly makes a man think. How many are there in that paddock 1 " "Nine thousand," answered Jack, carelessly. "They have been there since they wei-e weaned." " And how often are they counted 1 " " Once a month, regularly." " What percentage of loss 1 " " Next to none at all ; the fact is we have no dogs, and the season has been so far, glorious." " Well, I have five shepherds for the same number," said Stangrove ; " have had one or two ' smashes,' endless riding, bother, and trouble. It seems very nice to turn them loose and never have any work or expense with them — the most troublesome of one's whole flock — till sliearing. However, as I said before, my mind is made up for the next couple of years — after that, I won't say " " I think I hear the dinner-bell," said Jack ; "the ladies will be wondering what has become of us." M'Nab having arrived about this time, looking highly presentable, the masculine contingent entered the cottage, and dinner was announced. XI.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 125 "Your housekeeping does not need to fear criticism," said Mrs. Stangrove, as she tasted the clear soup. This was a sfecialite of Monsieur Jean Dubois, an artist who, but for having contracted the colonial preference for cognac, our vin ordinaire, would have graced still a metropolitan establishment. " We women are always complimented upon our domestic efficiency, home comforts, and so on," said Maud. "It ap- pears to me that bachelors always live more comfortably than the married people of our acquaintance." " I don't think that is always the case," pleaded Mrs. Stangrove. " But in many instances I have noted that you gentlemen, who are living by yourselves, always seem to get the best servants." " ' Kinder they than Missises are,' Thackeray says, you know ; but it must be quite an accidental circumstance. In by far the greater number of instances a lone bachelor is oppressed, neglected, and perhaps robbed." "lam not so sure of that," persisted Maud. "You exaggerate your chances of misfortune. I know when I am travelling with Mark we generally find ourselves much better put up, as he calls it, at a bachelor residence than at a regular family establishment. Don't we, Mark?" "Well, I can't altogether deny it," deposed Stangrove, thus adjured. " It may not last, and the bachelor may be living on his capital of comfort. But I must say that, unless I know a man's wife is one of the right sort, I prefer the unmarried host. You fling yourself into the best chair in the room as soon as you have made yourself decent. You are safe to be asked to take a glass of grog without any un- necessary waste of time. And you are absolutely certain that no possible cloud can cast a shade over the evening's abandon. Whereas, in the case of the ' double event,' the odds are greater that it won't come off so successfully." "What are, you saying about married people, Mark? You're surely in a wicked sarcastic humoiu-. Don't believe him Mr. Redgrave. " " My dear ! you are the exceptional helpmate, as I am always ready to testify. But there may be cases, you know, when the husband has just stated that he'll be hanged if he will have his mother-in-law for another six months, just yet ; 126 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. or the cook, not being able to ' hit it ' with the mistress's slightly explosive temper, has left at a moment's notice, and there is nothing but half-cold mutton and quite hot soda- bread to be procured ; the grog, too, has run out, which is never the case in a bachelor's establishment — and so — and so. Unless the lady of the house is partial to strangers (like you, my dear), give me Tom, or Dick, and Liberty Hall.' " So I say too," added Maud. " Of course being a single young person, I feel flattered by the respectful admiration I meet with at such houses. It's not proper, I suppose. I ought to feel more pleased to be under the wing of a staid, over- Avorked, slightly soured mother of a family, who keeps me waiting for tea till all the children are put to bed, and gives me something to stitch at during the evening ; but I don't — and so there's no use saying I do." " I'm afraid your tastes border on the Bohemian, Miss Stangrove," said Jack. " I'm rather a Philistine myself, I own, in the matter of yovxng ladies." " Thinking, no doubt, as is the manner of men, that stupidity contains a great element of safety for women. . I could prove to you that you are utterly wrong ; but you might think me more a person of independent ideas — that is, more unladylike than ever. So I abstain. How nicely your verandah looks over the river. It is quite a balcony. Isn't it very unpleasantly near in flood-time? " " The oldest inhabitant has never seen water cover this point," said Jack. " I ascertained that very carefully before I built here. If you look over to those low green marshy flats on the other side, you will see that miles of water must spread out for every additional inch the river rises." " Yes, Steamboat Point is all right," said Mark. " I've heard the blacks admit that. I've seen a big flood or two here too ; but the water runs back into the creeks and ansv branches in a wonderful way. Gets behind you and cuts you off before you can help yourself, sometimes, in the night. If I were you I would have every weaner out of those river paddocks before spring." " We could have them out soon enough if there was any danger," here interposed M'Nab. " You would find it hard, take my word for it," said Stangrove, "if the river came down a banker." XI.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 127 " I could whip a bridge over any back creek here in half an hour," said M'Nab, decisively, " that would cross every sheep we have there in two hours." "There's a Napoleonic ring about that, Mr. M'Nab," said Maud ; " but the Duke would have had all his forces — I mean his sheep — withdrawn from the position of danger in good time. One or two of Buonaparte's bridges broke down with him, you remember." "It doesn't look much like a flood at present," said Jack ; "though this is no warranty in Australia, which is a land specially dedicated to the unforeseen. Let us hope that there will be nothing so sensational at or before shearing this year." " Not even bushrangers," said Maud. " What does this mean?" handing over to her brother the Warroo Watch- tower and Doion-river Advertiser, in which figured the following paragi-aph : " We regret sincerely to be compelled to state that the rumours as to a party of desperadoes hav- ing taken to the bush are not without foundation. Last week two drays were i-obbed near Mud Sj^rings by a party of five men, well armed and mounted. The day before yesterday the mailman and several travellers on the Oxley road were stopped and robbed by the same gang. They are said to be led by the notorious Redcap, and to have stated that they were coming into the Warroo frontage to give the squatters a turn," Mrs. Stangrove tiu-ned pale, Maud laughed, while Mark devoted himself very properly to calm the apprehensions of his wife. " Maud," he said, " this is no laughing matter. It is the beginning of a period, whether long or short, of great trouble and anxiety, it may be danger, I am not an alarmist ; but I wish we were well out of this matter." " It seems very ridiculous," said Jack ; " every man's hand will be against them, and they nnust be run or shot down, ultimately." " Nothing more certain," admitted Stangrove ; " but these fellows generally ' turn out ' from the merest folly or recklessness, and become gradually hardened to bloodshed. They are like raw troops, mere rustics at first. But they soon learn the part of ' first robber,' and generally lose 128 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM [ch. xi. some of their own blood, or spill that of better men, before they get taken." " We have a dray just loading up from town. There is time — yes, just time," said M'Nab, consulting his pocket- book, " to write by mail. We can order revolvers, and a repeating rifle or two, and have them up in five weeks. Can we get any tiling for you ? " " Certainly, and much obliged," said Stangrove ; " if they know that we are well armed, they will be all the more chary of coming to close quarters. You may order for me a brace of repeating rifles and three revolvers." " With some of the neighbours we might turn out a respectable force, and hunt the fellows down," said Jack, who felt ready for anything in the immediate proximity of Maud, and only wished the gang would attack Gondaree then and there. There was no such luck, however. The ordinary station life was unruflled. The ladies rode and drove about with cheerful energy. Maud admired the paddocks and the unshepherded sheep immensely, and vainly tried to extort her brother's consent to begin the reformed system as soon as they returned to Juandah. Mark had said that he would defer the enterprise for two years, and he was a man who, slow in forming resolves, always adhered to them. CHAPTER XII. '■ So farre, so fast tlie eygre drave, The heart had hardly time to beat, Before a shallow seething wave Sobbed in the grasses at our feet ; The feet had hardly time to Uee Before it brake against the knee, And all the world was in the sea." — Jean Ingclow. The days passed pleasantly in excursions to Bimbalong^ io the back paddocks, and in rides and drives along the perfect natural roads peculiar to the locality. In the long excursions, the twilight was upon them more than once before they reached home. Jack did not altogether neglect his opportunities. When he rode close to Maud's bridle- rein, as they flitted along in the mild half-light between the shadowy pines, or the avenues of oak and myall, words would become gradually lower in tone, more accented with feeling, than the ordinary daylight converse. "And so you think," said Jack, on one of these pleasant twilight coirfidentials — Stangrove, who was driving, being rather anxious to get home before the light got any worse — " that I am not playing too hazardous a game in spending freely now, with the expectation of being so largely recouped within a year or two." " It is exactly what I should do if I were a man," said the girl, frankly. " How men can consent to bury themselves alive in this wearisome, never-ending, bush sepulchre I cannot think. I should perish if I were compelled to lead such a life without possibility of change. Wlien we think of the glorious old world, the dreamland of one's spirit, the theatre of art, luxury, war, antiquity, which leisure would enable one to visit — how can one be contented % " '' I never thought / should feel contented on the Warroo," K 130 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. said her companion ; " yet now, really, I don't find it so awfully dull, you know." " Not just at present," answered Maud, archly. " Well, I am candid enough to own that, our families having joined forces since your visit, things are a sliade more bearable. l>ut fancy growing gray in this life and these surroundings. Twenty years after ! Fancy us all at that date, here ! " "I can't fancy it. What should we be like, MissStangrovel" " I can tell you," pursued the excited girl. " Mark much the same, gray and more silent — strongly of opinion that the Government of the day were in league with free selectors, and generally robbers and murderers. His opinions are pi'etty strong now. 21ien, of course, they would have ripened into j)rejudices. My sistei--in-law, frail, worn out by servants and household cares ; just a little querulous, and more indisposed to read." "And yourself?" asked Jack. " Oh ! I should have been quietly bin-ied under a couba tree before that impossible period. Or, if 1 unhappily survived, would have become eccentric. I should be spoken of generally as a ' little strong-minded,' slight dash of temper, and so on ; veri/ fond of i-iding, and, they say, can count sheep and act as boundary-rider when her brother is sliort of hands. How do you like the picture ? " " You have not paid me the compliment of including me on the canvas." " I don't possibly imagine you within thousands of miles of Gondaree or Juandah at sucli a time. You will be dreaming among the ' Stones of Venice,' lounging away the winter in Home, or settled in a hunting neighbourhood in a pleasant English county, making v;p your mind, very gradually, to return to Australia, and to devote the rest of your days to model farming and national regeneration." *' There is only one thing absolutely necessary to render my existence happy under the conditions which you have so accurately sketched," — here ho leaned forward, and placing his hand upon her horse's mane, saw a softened gleam in her marvellous eyes — as of the heart's farewell to vmacknow- ledged hope — " and that is " " We are really riding shamefully slow," said she suddenly, us she drew her I'ein, and tlie free horse tossed Iiis head and XII.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 131 went off at speed. " Mark must have nearly reached home, and Jane, as usual, will be fancying all kinds of impossible accidents — that dear old Mameluke has tumbled down, posi- tively tumbled down and broken my arm in three places. I tell her she'll suspect me of taking a * bait ' next. How still the plain looks, and how exactly the same — north and south, east and west ! But even in this light you can distinguish the heavy, dark, winding line of the river timber." In due time the guests departed, and Mr. Redgrave was left to the consideration of the loneliness of his condition, a view of life which had not presented itself strongly before his introduction to Miss Stangi'ove. He had been contented to enjoy the society of Avife, widow, and maid in the most artless, instinctive fashion, without any fixed plan of personal advantage. Not that this unsatisfactory general approbation had escaped criticism by those who felt themselves to be sufiiciently interested to speak, lie had been called selfish, conceited, fastidious, fast, uninteresting, and mysterious. Many adjectives had in private been hurled at his devoted head. But he " had a light heart, and so bore up." Besides, he had a reserve of popularity to fall back upon. Thero were many people who would not suffer Jack Redgrave to be run down unreasonably. So up to this time he had eluded appropriation and defied disapproval. Now matters were changed. The slow, resistless Nemesis was upon him. In his ears souuiled the prelude to that melody — heard but once in this mortal life — in tones at first low and soft, then rich and dread with melody from the immortal lyre. At that svimmons all men arise and follow. Follow, be it angel or fiend. Follow, be the path over vernal meads, through forest gloom, or the drear shades of the nether hell. No woman. Jack soliloquised, had ever before commended herself to his tastes, his senses, his reason, and his fancy. She was in his eyes lovely in form and face ; original, cul- tured, tender, and true. He would make her his wife if his utmost efforts might compass such triumph, such wild ex- aggeration of happiness. She might not care particularly about him. She might merely have whiled away a dull week. Now, many a time had he done lilcewise, with ap- parent interest and inward tedium. Were it so, he felt as if K 2 132 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. he could bestow a legend on Steamboat Point by casting him- self into the rapid but not particiJai'ly deep waters which flowed beneath. At any rate he would try. He would make the great hazard. He would know his fate after shearing. Meanwhile, there was nearly enough to do until that solemn Hegira to put the thought of JNIaud Stangrove out of his head. Having made up his mind, Mr. Redgrave dismissed the fair Maud with pliilosophical completeness. Master Jack was extremely averse to holding his judgment in suspense, that process involving abrasion of his peculiarly delicate mental cuticle. He was prone, therefore, to a sjieedy settlement of all cases of conscience. J vidgment being delivered, he bore or performed sentence unflinchingly. Yet his friends asserted that during any stay of proceedings he could amuse himself as unreservedly, as free from boding gloom, or " the sad com- panion, ghastly pale, and darksome as a widow's veil," as any sportive lambkin on his way to mint sauce and deglutition. Thus, having settled that the subjugation of INIiss Stangrove could not be undertaken until after shearing, he went heart and soul into the arrangements for that annual agony, to the total exclusion of all less material considei'ations. To a healthy man, in the full possession of all mental and bodily faculties, perhaps a state of perfect employment is the one most nearly appi-oachingto that of perfect happiness. It is rarely conceded at the time ; but more often than we Avot of do men recall, when in the lap of ease, that season of com- parative toil and strife, with a sigh for the "grand old days of pleasure and jtain." Eiich nerve and muscle is at stretch. The struggle is close and hard ; but there is the glorious sen- sation of " the strong man rejoicing in his strength." The very fatigue is natural and Avholesome, The recovery is sure and complete ; and, if only a reasonable meed of success c-rown those unsparing efforts, the heart swells with the i)roud joy of liim round whose brow is twined the envied crown in the arena. Let who will choose the dulled sensation with which, in after life, the successful merchant notes his divi- dends, or the politician accepts the long-promised leadership. Mr. Redgrave, then, having girded himself for theflght, in to be, and John Redgrave was more deeply enthralled than ever. Stangrove asked him to stay a fortnight or so with them, if he could spare the time ; and Jack declared it would be most uncomplimentary to M'Nab's management, and the fencing system generally, to sujDpose that a proprietor was pinned to his homestead like a mere shepherding squatter. So he gratefully accepted the invitation and the opportunity. In spite of the weather — and even the presence of the beloved object cannot render the month of Januaiy a pleasant one in Lower Riverina — the days passed in a dreamily luxurious tropical fashion. Jack had an early enjoyable swim in the capacious Warroo, now ripjjling over sand-bars and pebbles, as if it had never risen with death upon its angry tide. Then the breakfast in the cool darkened room, before the great and resistless glare of the day commenced, was very j)leasant. After that period, and until the sun was down, I am free to confess that sdl the dramatis j^er so nee might as well have been m Madras or Bombay. Outside the heat was awful, and the 152 THE SQUATTER'S DREAj\I : [chap. first effect on leaving the sheltex' of the cottage after ten o'clock a.m., was as if one had suddenly encountered the outer current of a blast furnace. Mark Avas out on the run, as a matter of course, pretty nearly all day and every day. There were nevei"-ending duties among the sheep, cattle, and horses which did not permit him to make any i)hilosophical reflections upon the heat of the weather. He simply put it out of the question, as he had done from boyhood. Conse- quently he did not feel it half as much as those who tried by every means to evade it. Jack did not feel himself called upon to offer to join his host in these daily expeditions. He occasionally, of course, volunteered when his assistance was likely to be useful. But generally he lounged about the house, and made himself generally viseful by reading aloud to the ladies, irri- gating Mrs. Stangrove's flower-garden, practising duets with Maud, and generally raising Miss 8tangrove from that deso- late and vacuous condition into which she had been in danger of falling before his opportune arrival. The riding and the driving parties were of course not abandoned. There was always some period arbitrarily defined as the cool of the evening, when such exercise, even walking by the Warroo under the sighing river-oaks, was suitable and satisfactory. He and Mark had long arguments about all kinds of subjects, in which the ladies now and then took part. Nothing could have been more generally agreeable than the whole thing. But the days wore on, and Jack felt that he had no decent excuse for staying longer ; he therefore 2:)repared to depart. Ho had not seen his way either, much as he longed for an opportunity, to put that very tremendous and momentous question to Maud, to which he had sworn to himself that ho would receive a delinitive answer before quitting Juandah. Truth to tell, their intimacy liad not advanced so quickly as he had hoped. He saw, or tliought he saw, that Maud liked his society. But she was so frank and unembarrassed that ho mistrusted the existence of any deeper sentiment. Ho was notaltogether without knowledge of the ways of womenkind ; and he knew that this frank recognition of the pleasantness of his society Avas by no means a good sign. He did not feel inclined to ask any girl, obviously non-sympathetic, to marry him, trusting to the unlikeliness of her seeing any decenter XIII.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 153 sort of fellow in these wilds, and to her acknowledged distaste for life on the Warroo. " No, hang it," he said to himself, " that would be hardly generous. I'll wait till she shows some sign that she really cares for me — loves me, I mean. If she doesn't, John Redgrave is not the man to ask her. If she does, she can't hide it, nor can any woman that ever lived. I know so much of the alphabet." Thus hardening his heart temporarily and strategically, Mr. Jack finished copying the last galop, put a finishing touch to the grand arterial system of irrigation borrowed from Ah Sing, which he had engineered for the benefit of Mr. Redgrave's roses and japonicas, gave Mark Stangrove a real good day's work at the branding yard, showed him a new dodge for leg-roping which elicited the admiration of the stockmen, and went on his way, accompanied for a mile or two by his host. CHAPTER XIV. "Soft! AVhat are you ? Some villain inouiitaineevs ? I have heard of such. " — Cymbeline. Mrs. Stangro\t3 and Maud were sitting in the drawing- room that morning, a little silent and distrait, we may con- fess, when a man's footstep was heard on the verandah. " 1 did not think that INIark would have returned so soon," said Maud, going to the French window and looking out. She stood tliere for an instant, and then, turning to her sister a face ashen-white and strangely altered, gasped out a single word — that word of dread, often of doom, in the far, lone, defenceless Australian waste — " Bushrangers ! " Mrs. Stangrove gave a moaning, half-muffled cry, and then, obeying the irresistible maternal instinct, rushed into the adjoining apartment where her children were. At the same moment a tall man with a revolver raised in his right hand stepped into the room, and gazed rapidly round with restless eyes, as of one long used to meet with fre- quent foes. Beliiiul liim, closely following, were three other armed men, while a fifth was visible in the passage, thus cutting olf all retreat towards the rear. Maud Stangrove was a girl of more than ordinary firm- ness of nerve. She strove hard against the spasmodic terror which the feeling of being absulutclij in the ])Ower of lawless and desperate men at first i)roduced. Ilajndly conning over the chances of a rescue, in the event of the working overseer and his men returning, as she knew they were likely to do, at an early hour, having been out at the nearest out-station since sunri.se, accompanied by Mark, who had intended when leaving to cut across to them and CH. XIV.] A STORY OF AUSTRALTAIS' LIFE. 155 inspect theii" work, she felt the necessity of keeping cool and temporizing with the enemy. Steadying her voice with an effort, and facing the'intruder with a very creditable air of unconcern, she said — " What do you want 1 I think you have mistaken your way." The robber looked at her with a bold glance of admira- tion, and then, v>'ith an instinctive deference which struggled curiously with his consciousness of having taken the cita- del, made answer — " See here, Miss, I'm Redcap ; dessay you've heard of me. You've no call to be af eared ; but we've come here for them repeating rifles as Mr. Stangrove's been smart enough to get up from town." " I don't know anything about them," said Maiid, thank- ful to remember that she had not seen lately these unlucky celebrities in the small-arm way, which, for their marvel- lous shooting and rapidity of loading, had been a nine-days' wonder in the neighbourhood. " Well," interposed a black-visaged, down-looking ruffian, who had ensconced himself in an easy chair, " some of you will have to know about 'em, and look sharp too, or we'll bui'n thejolessed place down about your ears." " You shut up. Doctor," said the leader, who seemed, like Lambro, one of the mildest-mannered men that ever " stuck up mails or fobbed a note." " Let me talk to the lady. It's no use your fencing, Miss, about these guns ; we know all about 'em, and have 'em we will. Mr. Stangrove shot a bullock with the long one last Saturday. You'd better let us have 'em, and we'll clear out." Maud was considering whether it would not be safer to " fess " and get rid of the unwelcome visitors, who, though wonderfully pacific, might not remain so. A diversion was effected. One of the younger members of the band suddenly appeared with the baby — the idolized darling of the household — in his arms. " Here," he cried, " I've got something as is valuable. I shall stick to this young 'un to j^ut me in mind of my pore family as I've been obliged to cut away from." Mrs. Stangrove, poor lady, had been keeping close with the older children, flattering herself that this precious in- fant, then taking the air in his nurse's arms, was safe from the marauders. She was speedily undeceived by the pierc- 156 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. ing cry which reached her ears, as the affrighted babe, just old enough to " take notice " of the stranger, prochiimed distrust of his awkward, though not unkind, dandUng. Rushing in with frantic eagerness, and the " wrathful dove " expression which the gentlest maternal creature assumes at any " intromitting " with her young, as old Du- gald Dalgetty phrases it, Mrs. Stangrove suddenly confronted the audacious intruder, and, seizing the child, tore it out of his arms with so deft a promptitude tliat the delinquent had no time for resistance. Looking half startled, half sullen, he stood in the same position for a moment, with so ludicrous an expression of defeat and mortification that his companions burst into a fit of uiu'cstrained laughter, while Mrs. Stangrove, in the reaction from her unaccustomed ferocity, clasped the child to her bosom in a paroxysm of tears. "This here's all very well," said Redcap, "but we didn't come for foolery. If these rifles ain't turned up in five minutes you'll be sorry for it. If some of 'em gets to the brandy. Miss," here he lowered his voice and looked signifi- cantly at Maud, "there's no saying what will happen. Better deal with us while we're in a good temper." Maud believed that the coveted weapons were somewhere upon the premises, although she had spoken truly at the first demand when she averred that she was ignorant of their precise locality. She was aware that a moment might change the mood of the robbers from one of amused tolera- tion to that of reckless brutality. Not wholly ignorant of the terrible legends, still whispered low and with bated breath, of wrongs irrevocable suffered by defenceless households, her resolution was quickly taken. " Jane," she said to Mrs. Stangrove, who, helpless and unnerved, was still sobbing hysterically, "if you know where these guns are tell me at once, and I will go for them. It can't be helped. These men have behaved fairly, and as we can neither fight nor run away, we must give up our money-bags, or what they consider an equivalent. Where are the rifies 1" " Oh, what will INIark say'? " moaned out the distracted Avife. " If he were only here I should not care. And yet, perhaps, it's better as it is. If they do not hurt the dear XIV.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 157 children I don't care what they take. You know best. The rifles are in Mark's dressing-room, in the shower-bath." Maud Avent out, and presently reappeared with the beau- tiful American repeaters, one of which had the desirable peculiarity of being able to discharge sixteen cartridges in as many seconds, if needful ; the other was a light and extremely handy Snider — " a tarnation smart shooting- iron," as one of the station hands, who hailed from the Great Republic, had admiringly expressed himself. Redcap's eyes glistened as he possessed himself of the " sixteen-shooter," and handed the Snider to the Doctor. "All's well that ends well," growled that worthy, " we'll be a match for all the blessed traps between here and Sydney with these here tools ; but for two pins I'd put a match in every gunyah on the place, just to learn Stangrove not to be in such a hurry to run in a mob of pore fellers as had got tired of being messed about by those infernal troopers." " You'll just do what I tell you. Doctor," said Redcap, savagely, " and if I catch one of you burning or shooting without orders he'll have to settle with me. Hallo ! it can't be dinner-time." This last observation was called forth by the appearance of the parlour-maid with the table-cloth and a tray. She was a buxom country girl, without any of that hyper-sensi- tiveness of the nervous system common to town domestics. A bushranger to her was simply an exaggerated " traveller," and nothing more. One o'clock p.m. having arrived, it did not occur to her that the family would choose to omit the important midday meal on account of visitors, however un- welcome. She proceeded, therefore, with perfect coolness to lay the cloth, and observing no sign of objection from Maud, presently brought in the dishes, and set the chairs as usual. Maud, thinking that the less fear they showed the better it would be for them, called the children, and motioned to Mrs. Stangrove to take her accustomed place. Simul- taneously, Miss Ethel, a quiet little monkey of nine years, being extremely hungry, then and there recited the cus- tomary grace, praying God to " relieve the wants of others, and to make them truly thankful for what they were about to receive." 158 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. Maud afterwards confessed that it cost her a stron" effort to repress a smile as she noted the look of undisguised astonishment which came over the faces of Redcap and his men, who probably had not heard for many a year, if ever, that simple benediction. The Doctor recovered himself first. " I feel confoundedly hungry," said he ; " I suppose we may as well take a snack too." 'I Then come along with me to the kitchen," said the maid, promptly, with the most matter-of-fact air, opening the door of the passage. The men stared for a moment as if disposed for equal privileges in the region of communism which they now morally inhabited. But the old instinct was not entirely overpowered, and with one look at Maud's rigid counte- nance and the pale face of Mrs. Stangrove, Redcap followed the girl, and signed to his comrades to do likewise. At this moment one of the bed-room doors opened, and a man entered the room, dressed in a full suit of black. His hair shone with pomatum, and he looked something betAveen a lay reader and a provincial footman. " Look out," roared the Doctor, "perhaps there's more of 'em coming," as he raised his revolver. " Come, none of that. Doctor," said the new-comer ; "don't you never see nothin' but a cove's clothes'? " A roar of laughter from the others and the returned Red- cap apprised him of his mistake. It was the youngest member of their own band, who, being of a restless disposi- tion, had managed to find his wny to the spare room, where he had coolly appropriated a combination suit of John Red- grave's, and had further anointed himself with a pot of pomatum, which did not belong to that gentleman. This e])isodG improved the spirits both of captors and captives, and, hustling one another like school-boys, the whole gang made their way into the kitchen, -wliere, to judge from the sounds of laughter that issued therefrom, they enjoyed themselves much more than would have been the case in the dining-room. In about half an hour Maud had the inexpressible grati- fication of seeing them mount iind make off" steadily along the road wliich led " up the river." XIV.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 159 When tliey wei-e fairly off Maud felt symptoms of having taxed nature severely. She turned deadly pale as she threw herself upon the sofa, covering her face with her hands, while her whole frame shook with convulsive sobs, as she tried with her full strength of will to control the tendency to " the sad laugh that cannot be repressed." However, as chiefly happens in those feminine temperaments where the reasoning powers are stronger than the emotional, she sue-' ceeded, and bestowed all her regained energy to the support and consolation of her sister-in-law. "While these wonderful things were happening, John Redgrave was peacefully riding along the up river road, thinking of the manifold perfections of his divinity, and little dreaming that she Avas at that very moment a distressed damsel, in the power of traitors and Jaitours. " Wliat a lovely morning ! " soliloquized he, " not so warm as it has been ; a breeze too. How peaceful everything looks ! Really, this is not such a fearful climate as I thought it at first. With a decent house, and one fair spirit to be his minister, a fellow might gracefully glide through existence here for a few years— that is, if he were making lots of money. It would be almost too uneventful, that's the worst of it — nothing ever happens here. Hallo ! what a pace the Sergeant is coming at, and old Kearney too ! " This exclamation was called forth by the sudden appearance of the whole police force which was thought necessary for the protection of a district about a hundred miles square. Jack knew their figures, and indeed their horses, the Sergeant's gray and the trooper's cur by-hocked chestnut, to well too be mistaken. They raced up to him, and, pulling up short, both addressed him at once— a trifle out of breath. " Have you seen any travellers on horseback, Mr. Red- grave 1" asked the Sergeant. " If it's purshuing them ye are, ye' re going right wrong," blurted out trooper Kearney. "Seen who? Pursuing what ? " demanded Jack. "Why should I pursue anybody '? " " Then you haven't heard," said the Sergeant. " The divil a hear," interrupted Private Kearney ; " sure he doesn't look like it, and he ridin' along the road as peaceful as if there wasn't a bushranger betuxt here and Adelaide." 160 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. " Buslu-angers ! " quoth Jack, fvilly aroused. " I'd forgotten all about them, and near here 1 Where were they seen last, Stewart r' " Constable Kearney, will you oblige me by keeping silence, and falling to the rear," said the Sergeant, majestically, while he proceeded to enlighten Jack as to the probable where- abouts of the gang " from information received." " As far as I can make out, sir, and if that scoundrel of a mailman hasn't put me on the wrong track, they were at Mr. Stangrove's Ban Ban out-station last night, and have either gone down the river or over to his head-station to-day." " His head-station ! His head-station ! " echoed Jack, in wild tones of astonishment — " no ! surely not ! " " Very likely indeed, / think," said the Sergeant, " it's just about their dart from Ban Ban- — they may be there now." " What in the name of all the fiends are we Avasting time here for, then 1 " answered he, in a voice so hoarse and strange that the Sergeant looked narrowly at him to note whether he had been drinking, all forms of eccentricity on the Warroo being referable, in his opinion, founded upon long experience, to different stages of intoxication. " Thank God, I brought my revolver with me — come on, there's a good fellow." Sergeant Stewart had not, indeed, done more than slacken his pace for the time necessary to restore the wind of his horses, pi-etty well expended by a three-mile heat. He was a cool, plu(!ky, good-looking fellow, and no bad sample of a ci'ack non-commissioned officer of Australian police, a body of men inferior to none in the world for general light cavalry. He was as distinguished-looking in his way as his old name- sake, Bothwell, in Old Morlaiiii/, whom he resembled in more points than one. By the time Jack had concluded his sentence, his blood- hackney was pulling his arms off, neck and neck with the Sergeant's wiry gray, while Mr. Kearney and the doubtful chestnut Avei-e powdering away behind, at no great distance. " It's lucky we met you," said the Sergeant ; " there are five of them, I liear ; tlu-ee of us are a pretty fair match for the scoundrels." " I see you have your rifles," said Jack ; " you don't gene- rally carry them." " No ; hut this time we thought we were out for a week. XIV.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 161 I only saw the mailman, who gave me the office, early this morning, and came here as hard as we could split. Here comes another recruit, I suppose — by George ! it's Mr. Stangrove." So it proved. That gentleman, as unsuspicious as Jack himself, was cantering along a bush track which led into the main "frontage road" at right angles. •' Halloa, Redgrave ! turned round since I left you, and our gallant police force too. "What's the row — horse-stealers ? " " Worse than that, I'm afraid, old fellow," said Jack, going close up. " Redcap and his lot have been seen not far off." He stopped — for the sudden spasm of pain which con- tracted Stangrove's features was bad to see. " Good God ! " he said, at length, gnawing his set lip ; " my poor wife will be frightened to death, and Maud ! Let us ride — pray God we are not too late." " Little was said. The horses, all tolerably well-bred, and possessing that capacity for sustaining a high rate of speed for hours together peculiar to " dry-country horses," held on, mile after mile, until they sighted a large reed-bed, which occupied a circular flat or bend of the river. " By gad ! here they are," said the sergeant, " camped on the bank ! I can see their saddles : the horses are feedinsr in the reed-bed. Kow if we can get up pretty close before they see us we have them." "All right," said Jack, with the cheerfulness of a man whose spirits are raised by the near approach of danger. " You and Mr. Stangi'ove get round that clump of gums, and take them in the rear ; Kearney and I will sneak along close to the bank, till we're near enough to charge. I'll bet a tenner I have the saddles first. Then they are helpless." " I think you wouldn't make a bad general, sir," said the Sergeant. "Mr. Stangrove, I think we can't do better." Stangrove handled his revolver impatiently, and, with something between a groan and a reply, rode silently on. "Now, see here, Mr. Redgrave," said Pat Kearney — a ruse old veteran, who had put "the bracelets" upon many a horse and cattle stealer, and was not now abovit to have his first fray with buslirangei's — " if we can snake on 'em M 162 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [ciTAr. before they have time to take to thim unhicky rade-bids — my heavy curse on thim for hiding villains — we have thim safe. They may fire a shot, but they're unsignified crathers, not like Bin Hall or Morgan." " And why shouldn't these fellows fight ? " asked Jack. " Ye see, now, it's this a way. Just keep under the bank near thim big oaks — sure that's iligant. 'Tis a great orna- mint to the force ye'd make intirely. Well, as I tould ye, that spalpeen of a Redcap — more by token I put a handful of slugs in him once — has never killed any one yet — nor the others— d'ye see now 1 " " I don't see, Kearney, that it makes much difference — they're outlaws." " Ah ! but there's a dale of differ between men that's fijrhtins with a halter round their necks, and these half- baked divils that hasn't more than fifteen years gaol to fear, with maybe a touch of Berrima, at the outside." " I ixnderstand, then ; you think that they are more likely to give in after the fii'st flutter than if they were sure to be hanged Avhen caught." " By coorse they will ; why wouldn't they ? I knew lledcap when he'd think more of dufiing a red heifer than all the money in the country. If he seen m^e, I believe he'd hold up his hands, from habit like." " Then you don't think it a good plan to make bvish- ranging the same as murder, and to hang a fellow directly he turns out?" " Thim that wanted that law made didn't have their families living on the Warroo," said the old trooper, sturdily. " How can a couple of men like us thravel and purtect a district as big as Great Britain'? And what would turn a raw lot like these devils let loose quicker than a blundering, over-severe law ? By the mortial, they see us. Hould on, sir, and we'll charge them together, like Wellington and the Proosians at Waterloo." The robbers had a good strategical position. Their base of operations was the reed-bed, a labyrinth of cane-like stalks which met overhead in the narrow paths worn by the feet of tlie stock. They were, however, divided in party and in purpose. Two of them had been detailed to fetch up the horses grazing in the reed-bed, and the remainder, XIV.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 163 having just sighted Redgrave and Constable Kearney, stood to their arms with sufficient determination. On the very edge of the river bank, beneath which the stream ran in a deeper channel than ordinary, were the live saddles of the gang. They had evidently dismounted at this spot, and, after unsaddling, had gone to the edge of the reed brake, where an unusually shady tree afforded them an inviting lounge. Thus it chanced that Jack's keen eyes discovered the state of affairs, as he and Kearney prepared to rival Waterloo, on a necessarily limited scale. "Look here, Kearney," said he, as they commenced the grand charge, " I mean to throw those saddles into the river. The rascals are a good thirty yards from them. They can't do much without horses. So you blaze away, and cover me as well as you can." " It's a great move intirely — but watch that divil Redcap ; 'tis a mighty nate shot he is — and you'll be out in the open — bad cess to it." Jack:'s blood was up, and he did not care two straws for all the Redcaps and revolvers in Saltbushdom. Racing frantically for the accoutrements, he jumped off, and emptied his revolver, save one barrel, at the enemy. Kearney, a cool and experienced warrior, drew off some little distance to the right, and opened business on his own account, not only with his revolver, but with his breach-loading rifle, while his trained horse stood as steady as a Woolwich gunner. Jack, stooping down, coolly threw one saddle after another into the swirling current, where they were swept off before the very eyes of the brigands. As he stood uip- right, after hearing the " ping " of more than one buiiet unpleasantly close, he felt a sharp blow — an electric throb- — in his left arm, and realized the fact that a bullet had passed through the muscles near the shoulder. Inwardly congratulating himself that his right arm was unharmed, Jack drew himself up, and, facing the dropping shots which still hissed angrily around him, his eye fell upon the redoubtable Redcap, who, rifle in hand, had evidently been trying the range of Stangrove's late purchase in a manner not contemplated by that gentleman. Jack swung round, and lifting his revolver, as if at gallery practice, M 2 164 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [chap. pulled the trigger with that deadly confidence of aim which some men say is never experienced save in snipe-shooting or man-shooting. Bar accidents, the career of Wilham Cross- brand, otherwise Redcap, was ended. Not so, however, was he to be sped. There had been an old forcing-yard built at the spot for the purpose of swimming cattle and horses over the river. A few straggling posts were left. Behind one of these the robber adroitly slipped, and the bullet buried itself in the massive and twisted timber, just on a level with Mr. Redcap's unliarmed breast. " Sure it was the greatest murder in the world," said Mr. Kearney, afterwards, with apparent incongruousness. " 'Twas a dead man he was, only for that blagguard of a post." At this moment the Sergeant and Stan grove — who had been waiting till the two other outlaws came up, driving their hobbled horses before them — made a rush, which was the signal for an advance in line of the attacking party. A few scattered shots were exchanged on both sides. The shooting (let any of my readers try what practice they can make, with the best revolvers, from moving horses) was not anything to boast of. It was soon evident that the bush- rangers were not going to fight to the last gasp. They began to slacken fire, and show signs of capitulation. Perhaps the most dramatic incident occurred just before the surrender. The Sergeant had ridden up, neck and neck, with Stangrove to their partially entrenched position, and had exliausted his ammunition in a sharp exchange, when the Doctor stopped forward from behind a ti'ee, and took deliberate aim at him with the Snider. There was no time to reload. Things looked critical. Stangrove and the others were engaged on their own account ; but the Sergeant was ('(lunl to the situation ; ho fell back upon the moral force in ^\llich he so enormously excelled his antagonist. Raising his hand in a threatening attitude, and drawing himself uj) as if on jmrade, he fixed his stern eyes upon tlio audacious criminal and roared out — "You infernal scoundrel, would you dare to shoot me ? " It was a strange and characteristic spectacle. The hand- some, soldierly, comparatively I'diiied man-at-arms, sitting upon his horse, afl'ording a peifectly fair mark ; the half- XIV.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 165 sullen, half-irresolute criminal, with the power of life and death in his wavering hands ; but the mental pressure was too great. The old reverence for the representative of the Law was not all uprooted. A host of doubts and dismal visions of dock and judge, and manacled limbs, and the Sergeant sternly implacable, "reading him up" before a crowded court, rose before his overcharged brain. The con- flict was too intense. With a muttered oath he flung down the historic Snider, and stood with outstretched hands, which the alert ofiicer of police immediately enclosed in the gyves of the period. " You've acted like a sensible chap," said Stewart, patron- izingly, as the handcuffs clicked with the closing snap. " I'm not sure that you won't get off light. You have had the luck not to have killed anybody that I know of since you turned out." About the same time Mr. Redcap and the other semi- desperadoes had lowered their flags to Stangrove, his late guest, 'and Constable Kearney. This last warrior had, like his superior ofiicer, lost no time in securing the prisoners. Four pairs of handcuffs were available for the elder men. The youngest brigand had his elbows buckled together be- hind his back with a stirrup-leather. " Bedad ! ye're a great arr-my intirely," said Mr, Kear- ney, complacently. " Sure it's kilt and mvirthered I thought we'd all be with a lot of fine young men like yees forenint us. But the Docther there hadn't the heart to rub out the Sergeant ; 'tis the polite man he always was." " Well, they say taking to the bush is a short life and a merry one," grumbled out Redcap in a kind of Surrey-side tragedy growl. " I know our time's been short, and a dashed long way from merry. I'm thankful we ain't shed any blood — leastways not killed any cove as I knows of." Here he looked at Jack's wounded arm, the blood from which had considerably altered the hue of his shooting- jacket. " Oh ! the divil a hanging match there'll be, if that's what ye're thinking of," said Kearney. " Sure when they didn't hang Frank Gardiner why would they honour the likes of ye with a rope, and Jack Ketch, and a parson '] Cock ye up with hanging indeed ! Ye'^l be picking oakum 166 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM : [ciiai-. or chipping freestone, or learning to make shoes and mats, ten years from now." " You have been at my station, I see by the rifles," said Stangrove ; " was that all you took 1 " "Nothing else, Mr. Stangrove," said Redcap, humbly, "as I'm a living man. We'd heard so much about them — that the big one could carry a mile and shoot all day — that we was bound to have 'em. But we done no harm, and tlie ladies wasn't much frightened — not the young lady anyhow." " It's lucky for you they were not," said Stangrove, huskily ; " and it may serve you something at your trial. Sergeant, what are you going to do with the prisoners 1 will you bring them to Juandah to-night ? " " No, sir, I propose to make straight for the gaol at Bar- rabi'i ; we'll get to the ' Mailman's Arms ' some time before to-morrow morning. It's the lirst halt we shall make ; so step out, you fellows. The sooner we get to Barrabri the sooner you'll be comfoi'tably in gaol, where you'll have no- thing to think of till the Quarter Sessions." " Good-bye, Sergeant. Good-bye, Kearney. Redgrave, you had better come home with me and get that arm seen to. By the way. Sergeant, leave word at the ' Mailman's Arms ' to send on Doctor Bateman, if lie's anywhere about." " So far so good," said Jack, as they turned their norses' heads towards Juandali. " They were not a veiy terrific set of rulhans, and had evidently not bound themselves by a dark and bloody oath never to be taken alive." " The .sharpest sliooting seems to have come your way," said Stangrove, noticing that Jack's face was growing pale. "I heard a bullet or two whistle near me; but I believe they were sick of their life and anxious to yield decently. I feel mercifully inclined towards tlieni, inasmuch as I be- lieve they let us oft' cheap at Juandah; whereas, if it had been one of the old gangs " " Here we are," said Jack, as they reined iij^at the stable door. ■' Do you know I foci very queor." Here he dis- mounted, and moving with some dillicidty, that mortal paleness overspread his face which, once seen, is indelibly associated with I'cal or tempoi'ary lifelessness, and down XIV.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. IC" went Mr. John Redgi-ave, helpless as a new-born babe, or a young lady menaced by a black beetle. Stangi-ove let go his horse, and raised his prostrate guest in his arms (and a most awfully heavy burden he found him) when out rushed Mrs. Stangrove and Maud. "Oh, my darling, we have had the bushrangers here, the horrid men ; they took both the rifles ; and one of them took dear baby in his arms and frightened me to death. Have you seen them 1 And who is that 1 Why, it's Mr. Redgrave. Is he wounded 1 " " He was hit through the arm, but he is not desperately wounded. He lost some blood and fainted. Oh, you're coming to ; that's right ; sit up, old man, and we'll soon have you in bed." Maud had come forward with a half-cry parting her lips, while her widely-opened eyes were expressive of pained yet warmest sympathy. She could not trust herself to speak, but, kneeling beside the insensible form, bathed Jack's face with her handkerchief dipped in water, with a woman's ready wit, and, loosening his neckei-chief, watched with deepest earnestness the first faint signs of i-eturning life. " 'Pon my word," said Jack, as he sat up and stared rather wildly around him, " I feed awfully ashamed of myself to tumble down and give trouble all from a scratch like this. But I suppose it has bled and Saugrado-ed one a bit. It will soon pass off." " You have been fighting for us, Mr. Redgrave," said Maud, with involuntary tenderness in every tone of her voice ; " and we must not be ungi-ateful. Try if you can walk inside now. Lean on me. I am ever so strong, I can tell you." Jack did as he was bid, and felt it necessary to avail him- self of the rude strength of which Miss Stanc^rove boa.sted. Without any great loss of time he foi;nd himself on a couch in the spare room, where, with the aid of Mr. and Mrs. Stangrove, he was turned into an interesting invalid, with his arm bound up, pending the arrival of Dr. Bateman. Part of the evening was spent by the household in his bedroom, and a very pleasant evening it was. Mrs. Stan- grove was gravely happy, but inclined to be tearful when recurring to the dear children. Maud and her brother 168 THE SQUATTETl'S DREAM : [chap. took the humorous side of the adventure, and Jack laughed till his arm ached at Maud's description of the appearance of the younger bushranger as he turned out in part of Jack's raiment, and the remainder as left by a travelling agent for an orphan asylum. " ' All's well that ends well,' " said Stangrove. " I shall not have the same anxious feeling every time the dogs bark now. It might easily have been worse ; and, taking them as bvishrangers, a decenter lot of fellows 1 never wish to meet." Dr. Bateman came next morning, having fortunately looked in at the ' Mailman's Arms' on his way in from a back block, whither he had been called to set a stockman's leg, broken only the week before. Hearing of the casiaalty awaiting him at Juandah, he came on best pace, making running with his wiry iron-legged mustang from the start. The doctor, who liad in a general way to minister to the indispositions and accidents of the population of a district about a hundred and iifty miles long and a hundred broad, required to possess the constitutional qualities of his favourite mare. Most of them he did possess, thinking as little of a ride of a hundred miles in a day and a half as she did of carrying him. " So you managed to get hit, Mr. liedgrave? " quoth he, in a loud cheery voice, bustling in after breakfast. " In- fernal scoundrels — never knew such a gang. Never in my life. Worst lot that have taken the bush since old Donohoe's time." " But, doctor," protested two or three voices in a breath, " you surely mistake — they " "What I say I stick to," interrupted the doctor, with a twinkle in his shrewd gray eye. " Worst gang I ever knew— ;/or a medical man. Why, you are, my dear sir, the ' only wounded man in the whole district. I'm ashamed of them- — the country's going to destruction. No energy among the natives." " Oh, that's it," said Stangrove; " I was going to stand up for my friend, the enemy — Mr. Bedcnp and his merry men ; l)nt from your point of view they did lu'liiive dis- gracefully ; not a patcli upon Morgan, or tlie Clarkes, or even the virtuous and jxiliticMlly celelii-atod Frank Gardiner. Wliat do you think of your j)atient, doctcjr 1 " xiY.] A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. 169 " That he is in very good quarters. Pulse marks quicker time to-day than yesterday. Slight touch of fever, only natural ; arm inflamed and painful. A week's quiet, not a day less, will set him I'ight. Would have been a very pretty case had bullet perforated the humerus. As it is, merely amounts to laceration of muscles, minor vessels, and nerves." "You'll stay to-night, doctor, of course?" asked Stangrove. " No, must go after lunch ; have to ride down the river as far as Emu Reach. Man drowned last night — inquest." "How was that?" " Oh, shepherd, of course ; frightful amount of lunacy among them. Poor old Pott Quartsley got a great fright last week up Din Din. He went into a shepherd's hut at dusk and saw him standing just in front of the door. * What are you staring at me like that for, you old fool ] ' he said. Gave him a slight push. The shepherd turned half round-and slid into the same posture, silently. ' Great God ! ' said Quartsley, rushing frantically out, ' what is all this ? ' " " And what was it? " asked Stangrove. " Wliy, the man had /tariffed himself the day before with his bridle-rein fastened to the tie-beam. His feet just touched the ground, and his hat was on his head, so that he looked, in the half-light, exactly like a man standing upright. It had a great effect on old Quartsley." " What direction will the result take? " " That of fencing, I believe. Says he can't afford to keep expensive luxuries like shepherds any longer. That they're extravagances are sure to injure the finest property — the soundest constitution in the long run. Says he shall repent, economize, and fence — for the future." " Bravo ! " said Jack, a little feebly ; "if old Qviartsley begins to fence you won't be left behind, Stangrove? " " I said two years," answered he, " and in two years I'll consider the question, not an hour before that time. In the interval don't you excite yourself. The doctor and I are going to the men's hut. I'll send Maud with some cold tea for you." * -s * * * -i- CHAPTER XY. " A little cloud as big as a iiuiii's hand." It is not half a bad thing to "be laid up," as it is called, for a reasonable and moderate fraction of one's life — more especially if a " bright particular star " is impelled to beam softly and brilliantly upon one in consequence. Jack, after the inflaiinnation, which gave him " fits " the first day or two, had subsided, began to enjoy himself after a subdued fashion. Though food was restricted by the despotic doctor, and liquor, other than tea, altogether interdicted, there was no embargo laid upon tobacco. Mr. Iledgrave, therefore, used to get over the window which " gave " into the garden, and have many a soothing and delightful pipe in the afternoons and the long, clear, bright nights. He was, I firmly believe, perfectly well able to read ; but he pretended that it made his head ache, so Maud fell into tlie trap and volunteered to read Macaulay's E.'