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 IQQKflEALERS
 
 PELICAN POOL
 
 PE ICAN 
 
 POOL 
 
 A NOVEL 
 
 BY 
 
 SYDNEY DE LOGHE 
 
 Author of 
 " The Straits Impregnable 
 
 SYDNEY 
 
 ANGUS & ROBERTSON LTD 
 1917
 
 Printed by 
 W. C. Penfold & Co. Ltd., 183 Pitt Street, Sydney 
 
 for 
 Angus & Robertson Ltd.
 
 TO 
 
 M. L. 
 
 WHO, AT SUCH A PLACE AS SURPRISE, HAS 
 BORNE THE HEAT AND BURDEN OF THE DAY 
 
 4554O
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 Chapter Page 
 
 I. WHERE TO FIND SURPRISE VALLEY 
 
 CAMP ------- i 
 
 II. How THEY PASS THE EVENING AT 
 
 SURPRISE ------ 10 
 
 III. PELICAN POOL 37 
 
 IV. KALOONA RUN ------ 54 
 
 V. THE HUT BY PELICAN POOL 77 
 
 VI. THE COACH COMES TO SURPRISE - - 92 
 
 VII. THE RETURN TO SURPRISE - - - 118 
 
 VIII. THE BANKS OF THE POOL - 145 
 
 IX. How THE DAYS PASS BY AT SURPRISE - 159 
 
 X. How THE DAYS PASS BY AT KALOONA - 176 
 
 XL THE PARTING BY THE POOL - 190 
 
 XII. SELWYN HEARS SOME NEWS - 205 
 
 XIII. THE JOURNEY TO THE POOL - - - 221 
 
 XIV. THE HALT BY THE ROAD - 233 
 XV. THE PARTING OF THE WAY - - - 237 
 
 XVI. SUMMER DAYS ------ 241 
 
 XVII. THE ERRAND TO THE POOL - - 250 
 
 XVIII. THE BOTTOM OF THE VALLEY - - 264 
 
 XIX. THE SELWYNS RETURN SOUTH - - 272 
 
 XX. THE FAREWELL BY THE HUT - 282 
 
 XXI. THE COMING OF THE RAINS - 296 
 
 XXII. THE MEETING BY THE RIVER - - - 319
 
 CHAPTER I 
 WHERE TO FIND SURPRISE VALLEY CAMP 
 
 WHERE the equator girdles the earth, 
 the Indian Ocean and the amorous 
 waters of the Pacific have their 
 marriage bed. Afire with the passions of the 
 tropics, excited by breezes from a thousand 
 islands of palm, of spice, of coral, of pearl, 
 jewelled for the ceremony with quick-lived phos- 
 phorous lights, the oceans move to each other, 
 and mingle hot kisses under high red suns and 
 fierce white moons. They have begotten many 
 children; and one of these the Sea of Carpen- 
 taria leans deep into the northern coast of 
 Australia, and wears itself against a thousand 
 miles of barren shore. 
 
 As a young girl, dreaming her dreams, spends 
 affection careless of the cost, so these romantic 
 waters woo the stern northern land with warm 
 and tireless embrace. And, as a man, busy on 
 his own affairs, cares nothing for such soft 
 entreaty, so the north land gives no sign; but 
 remarks in silence the passage of the years.
 
 2 PELICAN POOL 
 
 Yet who shall say that passion has no place 
 there because a giant broods, dreaming a 
 giant's dreams? Who shall say because long 
 waiting may have brought crabbed age- 
 that the north land has not its sorrows? Morose 
 countenance it keeps, yet freely can it spend. 
 Its pulse beats no feeble strokes. Fierce suns 
 travel across it, the heavens are torn for its 
 rains, its floods laugh at restraint, the drought is 
 slave of its ill-humours. 
 
 Its face is rough with frequent ranges where 
 scanty vegetation climbs, where barren rock- 
 faces catch the sunlight, and clefts run in, and 
 shadowy cave-mouths open out. Here the 
 wallaby finds harbourage, the bat hangs himself 
 in the shadows, the python unrolls his coils, and 
 the savage stays a space for shelter. 
 
 Its face is smooth with dreary plain. Stunted 
 trees find living there, and hold out narrow 
 leaves to cheat the suns. The spinifex battles 
 with the thrifty soil, and porcupine grass weaves 
 its spikes for the unwary. Score of miles by 
 score of miles the country rolls away, brown or 
 red where shows the bare earth, grey or yellow 
 or smoky blue where the sun weds the dried 
 grassland, shining white where the quartz 
 pushes out of the ground. Through half the 
 hours the sun stares from the centre of the sky, 
 the leaves hang unmoved, the grasses are un-
 
 SURPRISE VALLEY CAMP 3 
 
 stirred: silence only lives. The savage is dream- 
 ing of the feast to come, the kangaroo has taken 
 himself to the roots of a tree in the dried water- 
 course. The sun passes to the journey's end: 
 life again draws breath. The kangaroo seeks 
 the tenderer grasses; the dingo rises in his lair 
 to stretch, and loll his tongue ; the parrot 
 screams from the tree-top; tiny finches, in 
 splendid coats, swing among the bushes ; a 
 brown kite takes high station in the sky. Yet 
 the waste seems empty, and the white ants only 
 may boast of conquest where their red cones 
 rise everywhere about the plain. 
 
 A belt of greener timber stands out bravely 
 from the faded vegetation to mark the river on 
 its passage to the sea. To the parching water- 
 holes the pelican comes at dawn to fish and to 
 pout his breast : snowy spoonbills and divers 
 splash in the lonely shallows. The alligator 
 comes up to sun himself; the turtle bubbles from 
 the hot mud; and the quick striped fishes play 
 at hide and seek among the languid weeds. The 
 kingfisher busies himself along the bank, and 
 with evening the ducks push their triangles 
 about the sky. 
 
 The conquest of this northern land will bring 
 the fall of one of savagery's last fortresses. 
 Already the outposts of South and East press in. 
 The ramparts are crumbling, and soon the gates
 
 4 PELICAN POOL 
 
 must tumble to a victor who never yet has been 
 denied. The white man has turned here his 
 covetous gaze. Vainly the burning winds and 
 angry rains shall beat at the ashes of his first 
 fires and shall scatter his first solitary bones. 
 The silences shall not fright him, nor the lean 
 places turn his purpose. Though he fall, yet will 
 he come on again, for this foe is fashioned of 
 stern stuff. In ones, in twos, already he toils 
 over the face of the wilderness, seeking the 
 kindlier ways for his herds: in ones, in twos, he 
 passes about the hills and watercourses, wrest- 
 ing from their bosoms the objects of his avarice. 
 Alike he invades the sternest and gentlest re- 
 treats, raising his shelters to mock at sun and 
 storm. His long fences are breaking the dis- 
 tances, his beasts of burden trample the virgin 
 waterholes, his iron houses defile the hermit 
 vales. Not easily does he work his will. Lean 
 and brown he becomes, and his women grow 
 haggard before their time. But children patter 
 upon the bitter places, and them the wilderness 
 has less power to hurt. 
 
 The Sea of Carpentaria woos the north land. 
 The north land gives no sign. 
 
 The mining camp of Surprise Valley lies in 
 the folds of those ranges which break the long 
 plains of the Gulf country. Ten years ago it
 
 5 
 
 grew along the bottom of a cup of the hills, and 
 since that season neither has waxed nor waned, 
 being nothing troubled by the wilderness which 
 marches to the door-ways of its tents and 
 humble iron houses. 
 
 The traveller, by circumstance brought 
 thither from the East, with ill grace leaves his 
 steamer at the coast, boards the casual train, and 
 presently finds himself jerking forward on the 
 second stage of the journey. He bumps west- 
 ward for five hundred miles. He moves through 
 plains which right and left push into the 
 horizon. The ocean has not seemed to him 
 more immense. A curtain of heat is about their 
 edges, a haze dwells about them. The clamour 
 of his coming scatters sheep at their grazing, 
 alarms the kangaroo at matins, sends the wild 
 turkey into the taller grasses. For a night, for 
 a day, for half another night, he is held in thrall. 
 He alone appears eager for the journey end. He 
 smokes, he reads, he eats : a dozen ways he sets 
 himself to hurry time. The cool of the evening 
 takes him to the outside platform of the car to 
 reflect and watch the darkening of the skies 
 to remark the first white stars. At such hour 
 maybe he takes his lot in better part. 
 
 Sunrise renews the stale prospect, and the 
 heated air of noon finds him with sticky collar 
 and drowsy brain. He dozes, wakes, dozes
 
 6 PELICAN POOL 
 
 again. Ever and anon the brakes grind, and the 
 train jerks to a standstill. From the window he 
 looks upon a siding, where a platform of 
 blistered planks and an iron shed are emblems 
 of railway authority. A dozen stockmen and 
 loafers of the township crowd the patch of 
 shade, to smoke and spit and await the train's 
 advance. First to the eye comes the hotel, 
 beside it lies the store ; and haphazard stand the 
 wooden houses, with iron roofs glaring back into 
 the sun's fierce face. Never a church lifts up its 
 cross as of old the tabernacle made signal in the 
 wilderness. A dusty way leads into the plain, 
 and along this presently the stockmen will turn 
 their horses. 
 
 The second evening brings the journey-end. 
 From his platform the traveller sees a town- 
 ship's lights grow upon the plain lights closer 
 and redder than the stars that meet them. The 
 iron rails have ended. Thankfully he gets down 
 to stretch his limbs in the cool, wide night. 
 
 But a hundred miles still frown him from the 
 goal. With morning he clambers into a seat of 
 the mail coach a battered carriage. His lug- 
 gage has been strapped behind. He sits solitary 
 beside the driver, who accepts him with easy 
 familiarity. The reins run slack to the horses' 
 heads, and the five lean beasts draw him forward 
 at even pace. The dust climbs up and hangs
 
 SURPRISE VALLEY CAMP 7 
 
 upon the air. All day he rolls over empty plain. 
 
 The second afternoon brings the ranges 
 marching from the horizon, and by evening the 
 coach rises and dips upon a see-saw roadway. 
 As the sun leans down to the horizon, the driver 
 draws taut his reins before Surprise Valley 
 Hotel. Surprise Valley ends the coach journey 
 ends the direct mail service ends the bush 
 parson's endeavors ends the travelling school- 
 master's rounds ends civilization ends every- 
 thing. When humour so inclines them which 
 is seldom the people of Surprise Valley may 
 walk from their doorways into the great un- 
 known of the West. 
 
 Fortune has given to Surprise the greenest 
 fold of the western ranges. Easy hills stand up 
 about the camp, tracing a zig-zag rim against 
 the sky. The camp lies in the hollow, as in the 
 bottom of a cup. It clambers about the lower 
 slopes, following the whim of the latest comer. 
 The hotel boasts a roof and walls of iron, that 
 much boasts the store, that much the manager's 
 house. The staff barracks and the mine offices 
 equally are favoured. Wooden piles lift the build- 
 ings high from the ground. Elsewhere stand 
 weather-worn tents; and sometimes a bough 
 shed, thatched with gum-leaves, serves its archi- 
 tect as parlour. 
 
 Towering over all rise the poppet-heads and
 
 8 PELICAN POOL 
 
 bins of the mine. Goats take a siesta beneath 
 the scrubby trees, explore the rubbish heaps, and 
 clamber about the dump; fowls of more breeds 
 than Joseph's coat knew colours, employ them- 
 selves in the dusty places, or keep the shade of 
 the broken rocks. Here and there an optimist 
 nurses a garden, and finds reward in a few 
 drooping vegetables. Goats and fowls peer 
 through the netting with evil in their hearts. 
 This is Surprise Valley to the stranger eye. 
 
 Three score burnt men and a handful of 
 shabby women here find living. They dig for 
 the green copper hidden jealously in the bosom 
 of the hills. From distant parts they have 
 drifted, they stay awhile; again they drift; but 
 the camp endures, and the wilderness is power- 
 less to harm it. Forward and backward from 
 the railroad, a hundred miles away, the weekly 
 coach crawls on its journey, keeping open the 
 track to civilization, and bringing such news and 
 comforts as that world has leisure to send. The 
 mail bags disgorge stale papers; the driver 
 delivers stale news. Round and round turns the 
 wheel of affairs. A whistle begins the day for 
 this community : a whistle ends it. Deep in the 
 earth the men labor with hammer and drill. 
 Overhead the women bend at their pots and 
 pans, and peg the weekly washings under cloud- 
 less skies. The children, untaught, unchecked,
 
 SURPRISE VALLEY CAMP 9 
 
 patter among the stones and tussocks, and send 
 abroad their cries. Summer follows winter. The 
 suns climb up; in season the rains roar down; 
 the frost comes in its turn. But the men of 
 Surprise Valley dig always in the bowels of the 
 hills, and the women busy themselves about 
 their doors.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 How THEY PASS THE EVENING AT SURPRISE. 
 
 THE last week of October was ending. At 
 Surprise seven red-hot days had crowded 
 after one another; six breathless nights 
 had brought men and women gasping to their 
 doors. The seventh evening had seen, an hour 
 since, the moon come up, white, round and full, 
 behind the Conical Hill; and with the moon 
 arrived a flagging breeze not cold, not even 
 cool, but with life left to turn the narrow gum- 
 leaves, to move the tent walls and the hessian 
 blinds on the verandahs of the iron houses. The 
 moon had climbed the hilltop an hour since, and 
 now was some distance in the sky. Falling with 
 a broad white light over the ranges, and no doubt 
 upon the plain beyond, it found a way to the 
 valley holding the stifled camp. It picked out the 
 iron roofs, and discovered the trees, to make of 
 their leaves bunches of silver fingers: it counted 
 the tents straggling down the distance, and on 
 the journey wove many patterns of light and 
 shade. The stones in the bed of the dry creek 
 
 10
 
 EVENING AT SURPRISE 11 
 
 shone with polished faces. The white ball in the 
 sky numbered the panels of the yard, where the 
 buggy horses two greys, two bays stood 
 reflecting on their fate ; and it numbered the 
 crinkles in the stable roof. 
 
 The breeze had moved several times down 
 the valley, and as often as it passed the people 
 of Surprise turned gratefully in their seats. Mr. 
 Robson, shift-boss, found heart to swear appre- 
 ciation and light a pipe ; Mrs. Boulder, brisk and 
 brawny, reached from her chair to slap the 
 youngest child ; and Mr. Horrington, general 
 agent unappreciated cousin of Sir James 
 Horrington, Bart., of Such-and-such Hall, Eng- 
 land pledged again his lost relatives in whisky 
 and a dash of water. The members of the staff, 
 telling smoking-room stories from their long 
 chairs outside the mess-room, re-settled for 
 something newer and choicer. 
 
 Two sounds were repeated, and helped to 
 make the stillness live. They were the stamp of 
 horses near the creek, and the cornet of Mr. 
 Wells, storeman. The cornet player was feeling 
 the way, with poor luck but an honest persist- 
 ence, through the pitfalls and crooked ways of 
 "The Death of Nelson." He had reached the 
 thirteenth verse. The thirteenth verse was the 
 unlucky verse : unlucky for him, because he 
 broke down, unlucky for his listeners, because he
 
 12 PELICAN POOL 
 
 repeated it. The notes fell slowly, uncertainly, 
 mournfully upon the night. As the fourteenth 
 verse began, Mr. Neville, manager of Surprise, 
 swore with feeling. 
 
 The old man of Surprise sat in the recess of 
 his verandah, on a full-length wicker chair, both 
 legs at easiest angle, heavy walking stick at 
 hand, a glass at his elbow, a pipe in his clutch. 
 The hessian blinds, nailed to the woodwork, 
 threw the place into gloom, unless crevices let 
 in a beam of the moon. Old Neville sat back 
 in the half-dark, a man of small and tough make, 
 covered from collar to ankles in white duck, 
 with brown, wrinkled face, bristling grey 
 moustache, shaggy white eyebrows, and an 
 aggressive manner. He was seventy; but he 
 was to be reckoned with still. Behind him, two 
 canvas waterbags hung midway from the roof, 
 and the single small table, with the whisky 
 bottle and the box of matches on it, he had 
 taken for himself. He put out bony fingers for 
 the matches. 
 
 "Damn that wretched fellow! I'll hunt him 
 off the place to-morrow." 
 
 A girl and two men were his company. The 
 girl sat between the men, and the three people 
 leaned back in canvas chairs. The nearest man. 
 who was dressed in riding clothes, was young 
 no more than thirty-five. He was tall, and of
 
 EVENING AT SURPRISE 13 
 
 a wiry make, and his skin was tanned. His face 
 was clean shaven, with a trace of temper in it, 
 while he had the manner of one well able to 
 take care of himself. He gave his attention to 
 a pipe. He was known through all that country 
 as James Power of Kaloona Station. 
 
 The girl was dressed in white. She was not 
 thirty years old, but the climate had not spared 
 her. She was not tall, she was rather slight, and 
 her face challenged no second glance ; but he 
 who looked closely might find thought behind 
 her eyes, and humour in her mouth. The 
 carriage of her head showed courage. Here was 
 a girl with thoughts to think and with dreams 
 to dream. A girl with a stout heart, who would 
 be ready to drink deeply from the cups of joy 
 and sorrow: a mate worth winning. Maud 
 Neville was her name, and Neville of Surprise 
 was her father. Just now, with both hands, she 
 marked the fall of the cornet notes which con- 
 tinued their troubled passage. 
 
 The other man smoked a cigar in heavy 
 content. He was growing middle-aged and stout. 
 He breathed with deep breaths, but the sultry 
 night excused him. A dark moustache covered 
 his mouth. His face was rilling with flesh; and 
 his eyes were cold though rather wise. Just now 
 he was well pleased with the world. He was 
 John King, accountant of Surprise.
 
 i 4 PELICAN POOL 
 
 The girl spoke. Her voice was full of lights 
 and shades. 
 
 "Don't always be growling at Wells, father. 
 He maddened me once; but I have accepted him 
 long ago. He will learn something else soon. 
 The cornet is new. He got it two or three 
 coaches ago. Mr. King, do you remember the 
 concertina last summer? The heat unstuck it 
 or something. That's why he sent for the 
 cornet. One day I asked him why he was so 
 persistent, and he put his hands on his chest very 
 grandly like this and said 'Miss Neville, it is 
 in here. It must come out.' ' 
 
 The old man screwed up his face. "He can 
 tell the flies that to-morrow when he takes the 
 track." 
 
 King took the cigar from his mouth very 
 deliberately. 
 
 "Maybe we listen to more than a poor store- 
 man a lover, a poet rather. Who can say? A 
 lover whose beloved has wandered afar: a poet 
 born tongueless, whose breast must break with 
 fullness. Then what do our ears matter, while 
 he finds relief?" 
 
 Power laughed. "You're an amusing idiot, 
 King." But the old man snorted. 
 
 "I've something else to even up with besides 
 that trumpet. Every man jack on the place is 
 doing what he likes with the water tanks these
 
 EVENING AT SURPRISE 15 
 
 last two months. They're three part done. 
 There'll be a drought here 'fore the rains come, 
 sure as I sit here, there will. I believe half the 
 women wash their brats in it. They've got the 
 devil's impidence. I watched Wells to-day carry 
 half-a-dozen kerosene tins for Mrs. Simpson and 
 Mrs. Boulder. I'd have seen he knew about it, 
 if I'd been nearer. I'll fix the lot of 'em up yet. 
 I'll settle them quick." 
 
 "You'll have to ration them," Power said. 
 
 "Ration them! I'll ration them till their 
 tongues hang out. They can go to the pub for 
 a drink." 
 
 A chair creaked in the dark, grunts followed 
 the creak, and Neville got to his feet. He 
 steadied himself with his stick, and started 
 towards the door into the houre. On the 
 threshold he paused and looked round. 
 
 "Ye know Gregory, the gouger from Mount 
 Milton way? He was in at the store this after- 
 noon. Says he's struck a first class copper show 
 on the river. He was blowing hard about it 
 there, and had specimens with him. He was 
 after gettin' a lot of tucker on account; but I 
 settled that. I may be wrong, huh, huh ! but I 
 reckon he wasn't long from the pub." 
 
 "Where's his show?" King asked. 
 
 "On Pelican Pool. He'll get drowned when 
 the rains come."
 
 16 PELICAN POOL 
 
 "He can have only just struck it. Nobody was 
 on the hole a fortnight back," Power answered. 
 
 "Is the show any good?" asked King. 
 
 "Bah ! Of course not." 
 
 "How do you know?" Maud cried. 
 
 "Of course it'll be no good." 
 
 "You don't know anything about it." 
 
 King put his cigar in his mouth, and it grew 
 red in the dark. He took it away again. "Isn't 
 Gregory the fellow with the pretty daughter?" 
 
 The old man began to chuckle. "Huh, huh! 
 I've heard more talk of Gregory's daughter these 
 last two weeks than of his copper show. If the 
 show is as good as the gal, his fortune is made. 
 She's a fetching little hussy." He wagged his 
 head. 
 
 "You've seen her?" questioned Power. 
 
 "Three days back. I was down in the buggy 
 looking at the pipe line. I told Maud about 
 her. She's something in King's way. I hear he 
 never misses anything." 
 
 King shrugged his shoulders. "My name 
 gone, you may send me along the pipe line as 
 soon as you like." 
 
 "Ye'll have to look sharp. Half the fellers on 
 the lease know about her." The old man 
 chuckled himself into the house. 
 
 "I want to see her," Maud cried. "Her fame 
 has gone all over these parts. They say she
 
 EVENING AT SURPRISE 17 
 
 turned everyone's head Mount Milton way. 
 Why are you so behindhand, Mr. King?" 
 
 "She has only been once to the store, and ill- 
 luck kept me wrestling with accounts. After- 
 wards I heard she had passed through like some 
 Royal Presence, moving so greatly every man 
 under fifty that he gave up work for the after- 
 noon." 
 
 "And," said Power, "my Mrs. Elliott's story is 
 that Mick O'Neill, our head man, has lost his 
 head over her." 
 
 King bowed reverently in the dark. "She 
 must be wonderful a poem of golden words, a 
 melody of diamond notes. She must be fit to 
 rank with those dead women generations of men 
 have sung about. The Helen of Homer: Deirdre, 
 princess of Ulster, whom four kings fought over, 
 and for love of whom three brothers slew them- 
 selves : Poppaea, mistress of Nero, for whose bath 
 five hundred asses let down their milk: a Ninon 
 de 1'Enclos, who rode abroad on early autumn 
 mornings, while the poor brutal peasants 
 covered themselves, believing an angel passed 
 by. When I go down the pipe line, I shall take 
 my fly-veil with me that my sight may not be 
 destroyed." 
 
 "You may meet me there, with or without a 
 veil," said Power. 
 
 "Don't count yet on going, Mr.-my-friend-
 
 18 PELICAN POOL 
 
 Power," Maud Neville said. "I must look my- 
 self first." 
 
 "And now/' said King, leaning heavily for- 
 ward in his chair which creaked out loud, "I 
 think it becomes me to salute such loveliness." 
 He stretched a hand for the whisky and poured 
 out a noble peg. 
 
 A bellow came from inside. "Power!" 
 
 "Hullo!" 
 
 "I want ye!" 
 
 Power got up. "I'll see what is wanted. But 
 first our pledge." 
 
 The steps of Power died away, and King and 
 Maud Neville were left alone. Nelson had died 
 at last, and now the cornet asked, "Alice, where 
 art thou?" One or two crickets beneath the 
 house accompanied it. Presently King must 
 have moved his chair, because there was a 
 sudden creak. 
 
 "I am going to write a treatise on love to aid 
 the beginner." 
 
 "How many volumes?" 
 
 King shook his head. "You mock me. You 
 think because my heart is widely proportioned, 
 and because there are several little dead affairs 
 stacked neatly on upper shelves, that each of 
 those visitors cost nothing to admit, and that 
 now one cannot be told from another. You are 
 mistaken." Again he shook his head. "Each of
 
 EVENING AT SURPRISE 19 
 
 those visitors left its footprints on the thresh- 
 old, and memory can still find them in the 
 dustiest, most forgotten corners. No, hide your 
 smiles." 
 
 "Go on, you stupid, I love listening to you." 
 
 "Love comes always in the same way, whether 
 it be the great affair that tramples ruthless and 
 leaves us crushed on the road, or whether it 
 arrives with hammer and chisel, playfully to 
 knock off a corner of the heart. For love flows 
 forward in a ripple of waters over which pass 
 sweetest breezes. So slowly it moves, so gently 
 it rises, that one is lost ere the clanger be dis- 
 covered. In the first sprays that dash the 
 drowner's mouth lie its best, its purest." 
 
 "And after?" 
 
 "Alas ! the tide brings refreshment with it, and 
 lovers wake hungry, and what had seemed two 
 shafts from heaven become a woman's eyes. 
 And so the descent to earth is trod again in 
 steps of kisses." He held out his arm. "Look 
 at the moon slung there, a great silver platter! 
 How many thousands of us have cried out for 
 it? Yet it is only a barren mountain region, 
 scarred and ugly. But we never learn this, 
 because we do not draw near. Love is a mirage. 
 Love is the dancing of the marsh lights. There- 
 fore pursue, but do not draw near. For once 
 you touch the shining thing its glamour shall
 
 20 PELICAN POOL 
 
 depart, and as the millstone of satiation it shall 
 hang about your neck." 
 
 "But I understand you never practise your 
 preaching." 
 
 "I am too eager in pursuit. I blunder on the 
 shining thing, and then " He shrugged his 
 shoulders with infinite regret. 
 
 Maud Neville joined her hands behind her 
 head. She frowned the least little bit. She 
 spoke in a hurry. 
 
 "No, that's not love. That's anything you 
 like ; but it isn't love. Love is quite a different 
 thing. Listen to me. Love is the eye that takes 
 no sleep, the foot that knows no stony road, the 
 heart that bleeds and feels no wound, the brain 
 that always understands." 
 
 "I see," King said. 
 
 A second time they had nothing to say. As 
 they sat thus, the breeze journeyed again down 
 the valley. It stirred the hessian blinds against 
 the fly-proof netting. It came through the open 
 doorway at the verandah end, and moved the 
 water-bags behind Neville's empty chair. The 
 two opened their arms to it. It must have 
 brought charity to the heart of Mr. Wells, for 
 he packed up his cornet for the night; and it 
 may have touched King's tongue with elo- 
 quence. Soon it had gone by. But King got up 
 and walked to the doorway to throw away his 

 
 EVENING AT SURPRISE 21 
 
 dead cigar. He stood there some while looking 
 over the country, and the moonbeams revealed 
 him a stout man, past first youth. Maud Neville 
 fell to examining him. Now the cornet no more 
 made plaint, complete silence waited on the 
 night. Something moved her to break the spell. 
 
 "How still it is," she said. "How empty!" 
 
 The man at the doorway did not turn round ; 
 but he looked out into the open as though 
 proving her words. "Still?" he said. His 
 tongue strings were loosened. "Empty?" He 
 pointed his hand. "Up there, this way, that way, 
 hear the roar of worlds rolling through the 
 crowded ways of space. Hear the bellowings of 
 the furnaces, the shrieks of passage, the crash of 
 collision ! Worlds are growing fiery there, 
 worlds are growing cold. Worlds are dying 
 there. Worlds are finding new birth. The 
 Angel of Life and his assistant the Angel of 
 Death take no rest. 
 
 "Lift up your veil, O Night, for we would look 
 in. 
 
 "Yes, joy is here, and sorrow is here ; hunger 
 is here and repletion is here; sin is here and 
 righteousness here : hope and despair, love and 
 hate, anger and forgiveness all are here. 
 
 "The young lion roars in his triumph, and the 
 old toothless lion has missed his kill. The night- 
 ingale sings from the cypress; and the mouse is
 
 22 PELICAN POOL 
 
 squeaking where the owl swooped down. In a 
 hundred jungles the beast of prey fills himself; 
 and in haunts of men the ravenous are abroad 
 also. The lover cries that the couch is waiting, 
 and in the shadow lurks the assassin. Where 
 men are dying, mothers stand weeping; and 
 mothers are writhing where men are being born. 
 The student, pale with learning, trims his lamp 
 and asks for the night to continue; and the 
 tempest-torn mariner is praying for the dawn. 
 The youngster smiles at his rosy dreams; and 
 round his father breaks the shock of battle. The 
 rich man toys with his heaped meats: and to a 
 fireless garret has crept the pauper. The states- 
 man toils in his chamber ; and the well-dined 
 burgher turns in his sleep. Age pulls the coverlet 
 over a bony breast ; and in the halls of vice youth 
 spends its strength. In solitude the shepherd 
 guards his flock ; and in retreat no less lonely the 
 miser counts his gold. And hairs are greying, 
 and eyes are dimming, and babes are crowing. 
 And voices are laughing, and voices are scolding, 
 and voices are sobbing. How empty the night 
 is? How still the night is? No! How 
 crowded! How deafening!" 
 
 King came to a full stop. His hand fell to his 
 side. He did not turn round, and presently he 
 lit another cigar with irritating calm. All the 
 while, the girl had not stirred in her chair. At
 
 EVENING AT SURPRISE 23 
 
 last King moved from the doorway, and at the 
 same time Neville sounded his stick in the 
 house. He appeared on the verandah with 
 Power behind. The old man was chuckling to 
 himself and holding out some keys. 
 
 "Huh, huh! I may be wrong; but I think I'll 
 settle that little crowd. See these? For the 
 tanks. See 'em? I'll be along and fix them up 
 right away. To-morrow you can watch them 
 line up with their tongues out. Old Horrington 
 can live on whisky for a while. It's done him 
 before to-day. Mrs. Johnson can wash in last 
 week's water. It'll make good soup for the 
 baby. He, he! Huh, huh, huh !" 
 
 "What are you going to do, Father?" 
 
 "Lock the tanks, of course. What d'ye think 
 I mean to do? Drink 'em dry?" 
 
 "You can't do that." 
 
 "Can't? I may be wrong, but I reckon I can." 
 He wagged his head ; and next gripped his stick 
 and began to stamp down the verandah, but half 
 way brought up short with a second nod. "Moon 
 or no moon," he said, "I shall do better with a 
 lantern where I'm going." He went indoors 
 again. 
 
 At the same time King pulled out a watch. 
 "I'll get back." 
 
 Maud from her chair called out to him.
 
 24 PELICAN POOL 
 
 "Already, Mr. King? It's not late. Are you 
 tired of us?" 
 
 "The night is getting cool, and I haven't slept 
 for a week." 
 
 Power looked at the moon. "What's it? 
 Ten?" 
 
 "Twenty to. We may get a change out of 
 this." 
 
 "I don't think so," Power said. 
 
 "At least we'll hope next week is better," 
 Maud cried. "Let's wish for a storm." 
 
 "And after it the flying ants?" 
 
 "Oh bother them !" Maud said. "Where's the 
 romance of the wilderness?" 
 
 King answered her. "Romance is somewhere 
 just out of sight. Some day I shall sit in a 
 cooler country, having forgotten the taste of 
 heat and flies, and I shall start sighing for the 
 old romantic days at Surprise. And now for a 
 nightcap before bed." 
 
 "Mr. King, you are breaking rules." 
 
 "But this is Surprise and we are in the last 
 week of October. Much can be forgiven when 
 you live at Surprise during the last week of 
 October." 
 
 "The rule is three, and that makes number 
 five." 
 
 "Alas!" 
 
 "Well, never again."
 
 EVENING AT SURPRISE 25 
 
 King put down his empty glass. "Good night." 
 
 "Good night." 
 
 He went through the doorway into the open 
 and down the steps. His footfalls crunched on 
 the bed of the dry creek. The return of Neville 
 overwhelmed them. The old man held a lighted 
 lantern, and fumbled impatiently at the wick. 
 "Where's King?" he demanded, lifting shaggy 
 eyebrows over the top. 
 
 "Gone home a moment ago," Maud said. 
 
 "Er! I knew as much. He knows what he's 
 about. I meant him to come with me." 
 
 "He's good company," Power said, settling 
 again in the old seat. 
 
 "I love him," Maud said. "One moment he 
 makes me laugh and the next he makes me think. 
 I don't know yet whether he is a wise man or 
 a mountebank." 
 
 "Where does he come from ?" Power asked. 
 "You said he was a solicitor, didn't you?" 
 
 The old man snapped down the glass of the 
 hurricane lamp. 
 
 "I heard tell he was a solicitor somewhere and 
 got kicked out. As soon as he touches money 
 he can't go straight. He would sell his mother 
 up. Huh, huh! He's a gentleman to walk shy 
 of while you've a few pounds to spare. Go to 
 him for a goat, and he'll sell you one of mine. 
 He has done business over half the fowls on the 
 c
 
 26 PELICAN POOL 
 
 lease, though he never owned a feather. He, he! 
 I can't help respecting his abilities. He's got a 
 finger in most copper shows within fifty miles. 
 The silly coves get him to draw up their agree- 
 ments, and he takes care that his name comes in 
 somewhere or other." Neville chuckled himself 
 to the end of his tale, then said, "You had better 
 be away, Power. I'm going to bed when I get 
 back." He went through the door. 
 
 "Take care!" Maud called out. 
 
 "Er?" 
 
 "Take care." 
 
 A growl was her thanks. In course of time the 
 old man had scrambled down the steps and 
 across the creek. 
 
 "So much for our friend, John King," said 
 Power. 
 
 At Surprise Valley the rule is early to bed. 
 First chop the wood and milk the goats. Then 
 soothe or slap the baby to sleep. After tea, a 
 seat in the doorway and a smoke. After a 
 smoke, an exchange of maledictions on the 
 weather. The lamps in the tents begin to go out 
 by nine o'clock. The frustrated moths and flying 
 ants betake themselves elsewhere, and the 
 mosquito sings a solo requiem in the dark. On 
 cool nights and nights of breezes, the people of 
 Surprise put out lights at even an earlier hour, 
 for sleep is likely to prove kinder mistress.
 
 EVENING AT SURPRISE 27 
 
 To-night already three parts of Surprise were 
 sleeping. To be true, Mr. Wells was thinking 
 of a last pipe; and Mr. Horrington, whisky bottle 
 at elbow, was cogitating a nightcap. Also, a 
 light burned yet in the latest rigged tent. Mr. 
 Pericles Smith travelling schoolmaster, arrived 
 here on his rounds after chopping the firewood, 
 hunting the goats away, putting the kettle off 
 the boil, and performing sundry other exercises, 
 was snatching a few moments with the help of 
 a candle at his monumental work on the 
 aboriginal languages of Australia. Nowhere 
 else lights pierced the walls. The moon fell over 
 high land and low land, upon house and tent, 
 and steeped in romance the dreary prospects of 
 the day. The Man in the Moon looked down on 
 a fairy city. 
 
 I have brought you now to the beginning of 
 my chronicle : I have laid the stage and you are 
 left with the chief players. The story is written 
 in a thumbed volume of the Book of Life, and 
 it is time to lift down the tome from its shelf. 
 Look for no tremendous tale, for at Surprise the 
 day wags through its journey as elsewhere 
 sorrow tastes as bitter here, pleasure drinks as 
 sweetly, and the human heart beats time to old, 
 old tunes. Look for no great story then, for I 
 have it not to tell you are to find two lovers,
 
 28 PELICAN POOL 
 
 you are to have the history of their loves, and 
 learn how one was rude apprentice to the trade, 
 and what apprenticeship had to teach him. 
 
 The man and woman on the verandah had 
 tumbled into their own thoughts. But presently 
 Power rose in his seat, and moved it beside 
 Maud Neville. He sat down again he leaned 
 forward and raised one of her hands. Fingers 
 closed on his own. "Kiss me, Maud," he said, 
 in no more than a whisper. 
 
 He bent close over the girl. His face 
 approached hers until he and she saw each other 
 clearly in the dark. They kissed with much 
 passion. As Maud released him, she touched his 
 forehead with her lips. 
 
 "I thought we should never be left alone. I 
 was getting disgusted and going home. I came 
 with a lot to tell you. I was full of ideas, but 
 you were bent on avoiding me." 
 
 "Poor fellow! As bad as that? You should 
 have come earlier. I couldn't get up and leave 
 the others, you silly. Mr. King doesn't come 
 very often. What have you to say so 
 important?" 
 
 "Maybe I'm not telling it now." 
 
 He was laughed at for his pains. "You want 
 coaxing? Is that what's the matter?" 
 
 "This is it then. I can't wait longer. We have
 
 EVENING AT SURPRISE 29 
 
 been engaged long enough. I want you to 
 marry me soon I mean, this month or next. 
 Everything is ready over there. We'll choose a 
 date to-night." 
 
 "And you are ready for Father?" 
 
 "He can't refuse again. We've waited so 
 long." 
 
 "Perhaps." 
 
 "Then desperation will give me courage. Now 
 for the promise." 
 
 "I said nothing about a promise. You must 
 think I am awfully fond of you." 
 
 Power leaned forward again. Their faces 
 came close together. Her eyes were wide open 
 and looked straight into his. Fondness appeared 
 in them, deep as the sea. Power began again 
 to speak. 
 
 "It has become so lonely over there. I think 
 about you all day long. The house has grown 
 miserable. It has turned to a graveyard. If you 
 appeared there, things would become w r hat they 
 were. You must marry me soon. I have been 
 too patient." 
 
 He stooped and, in place of speech, he began 
 to kiss her hair, her face, her hands. Presently 
 she put an arm about his neck, and kept him 
 willing prisoner. "What about your promise?" 
 he said once more.
 
 30 PELICAN POOL 
 
 She had not done with coquetry. "What 
 makes you think I am so fond of you ?" 
 
 "And don't you like me a little bit? A little 
 bit?" 
 
 "Perhaps a little bit." She put both arms 
 about his neck. "My good friend, you are every- 
 thing in the world to me. My silly life begins 
 and ends in you. This great love of mine has 
 quite eaten me up. Why, what would I do with- 
 out you. You came as a brand to a cold hearth 
 and set it aflame. Something in my heart sings 
 now all day long." 
 
 Passion came over them as a surge of the sea, 
 as a storm of wind. They bent close to each 
 other, thinking no thought. Their breaths 
 mingled. Their hearts marked one time. 
 
 At last she released her prisoner. Her eyes 
 were shining in the dark. She began to speak 
 in a low, eager voice. She might have been a 
 messenger bringing glad tidings. 
 
 "You will never understand what this love 
 has meant to me. You and I we are different 
 metals refining in the same furnace, and the fire 
 does not treat us alike. My life at last has 
 become easy to live. It is a simple and a grand 
 thing. Think of Dingo Gap or Pelican Pool 
 without sun or flies. Wouldn't they be wonder- 
 ful places? Well, I find life changed as much as 
 that. The little happenings no more have power
 
 to annoy. My eyes are strong to see straight 
 ahead. In all matters I am undisturbed. This 
 love of mine is a holy thing. It will brook no 
 meanness. It will stoop to no crooked ways. 
 Something cries out in my heart to grow and 
 grow. I would bring you a wide-open mind. I 
 would offer you a body as beautiful as that girl 
 we talked of half-an-hour ago." 
 
 She began again. "And now, my good friend 
 yes. you who look at me so fondly I am 
 going to hurt you a little bit. I am going to 
 tell you you have brought me my moments of 
 sorrow. For a long time now I have known that 
 your love and my love are of different kinds. 
 Bad hours arrived for me once when an evil 
 spirit whispered that you did not understand 
 me, and therefore you could not truly love me. 
 The whisperer said Nature demanded you 
 should go hungering after a woman, and there 
 was no choice but me. The whisperer said until 
 you knew me, and demanded me because of your 
 new knowledge, that my affections were 
 anchored in the sands. 
 
 "But I have pushed aside the whisperer. I 
 love you, and that is all that matters. For love 
 knows nothing of hunger and unrest, of hope 
 grown old and other miseries. Love is the clear 
 light, and those the winds that wrestle for it, 
 that are not of it and can never hurt it. But
 
 32 PELICAN POOL 
 
 you will not test my strength? Answer me. 
 You will not test it?" 
 
 "No, my girl. But your words could be 
 kinder. I have no quick tongue like yours to 
 tell my tale. I know this, that I am weary of 
 waiting for you. Don't let us waste more of life. 
 We have the whole world to see, and when we 
 have grown tired, we shall come back here. The 
 old home I am so sick of will grow beautiful 
 under your care. I shall ride away in the morn- 
 ing, knowing evening will find you waiting for 
 me " 
 
 "Yes, yes, I shall be waiting for you, and you 
 will arrive hot and tired, and you will say 'I 
 won't eat anything.' But I shall coax you. And 
 later on we shall sit together in the light of this 
 same old moon, which will have travelled round 
 a few times more, and will have become a little 
 paler with watching. And we shall talk about 
 olden days. And then we shall begin to grow 
 old together, and I shall count your first grey 
 hairs and why, Jim, you are laughing at me!" 
 
 "Am I ? Then give me my promise, for I 
 must go home." 
 
 "What am I to say, Jim? You know I want 
 the marriage as much as you do. But father 
 is an old man, and there is nobody but me to 
 look after him. He wouldn't think of giving up 
 the mine to live with us. If you like, we can ask
 
 EVENING AT SURPRISE 33 
 
 him again to-night. Then if he says no, I shall 
 stay with him a little longer, and at last we must 
 tell him it is our turn to choose. That's fair, Jim, 
 isn't it? No, don't look sulky. I am quite 
 right." 
 
 "You won't always put it off like this? I am 
 growing bad-tempered over there." 
 
 "You silly boy. you are only a few miles away. 
 We see each other every week. But we may 
 catch father in a soft moment. We must find 
 him after he has locked the tanks. He'll be in 
 such a good humour at the thought of a fight 
 to-morrow, that he may say yes. Let's find him 
 now. Go away, stupid, I want to get up." 
 
 Maud rose to her feet, shook out her dress, 
 and pushed her hair out with her fingers. She 
 kissed Power for the last time, and they went 
 down the steps into the moonlight. She ran 
 ahead, taking little heed of her footing. The 
 stones in the creek were thick and rough, and 
 she trod them with quick feet while Power 
 crunched behind. The stable was not far away, 
 and they followed the fence towards it. The 
 horses stood together with drooped heads at the 
 lower end of the yard. All this quarter of the 
 camp was picked out plainly in the moonlight. 
 
 A figure moved about the stable. It was 
 Neville back from his rounds. Maud nodded 
 her head in his direction.
 
 34 PELICAN POOL 
 
 "There's father waiting for us," she said. 
 "Now Mr.-my-friend-Jim, are you feeling as 
 brave as you were?" 
 
 "You must look after me." 
 
 "Certainly not. I never pretended to be 
 brave." 
 
 "I shall find courage somehow." 
 
 Old Neville's voice arrived. "Be smart ye 
 two. You've been an awful time. I expected 
 ye gone long ago, Power. That fool groom has 
 jammed the door so as I can't get in. I'll let him 
 hear about it to-morrow. See if you can do any- 
 thing. He, he ! ye'll have to do something, or 
 ye'll go bareback home. What did ye want to 
 come along for, Maud? Can't you let him alone 
 for a minute? That's the way to sicken a man 
 of ye." All three met outside the stable door. 
 "D'ye see what I mean?" Neville said. 
 
 Power moved the door in course of time. The 
 old man went in first with the lantern. "Take 
 the saddle and hurry up. I want to get to bed." 
 
 Power carried the saddle to the fence. Maud 
 had taken the bridle and had gone in search of 
 the horse which knew her and would stand. In 
 a little while she was leading it back. Power 
 had taken his opportunity. 
 
 "Mr. Neville, Maud and I talked things over 
 to-night, and we want to get married. You 
 won't mind, I hope?"
 
 35 
 
 The old man was rooting with his stick in a 
 corner of the stable. "Er?" he said, looking up. 
 
 "We're thinking of getting married," Power 
 said again louder. 
 
 "Have you still that in your heads? I told 
 ye 'No' before. Here, come here. Look at that 
 fellow ! I'll fire him off the lease before he's any 
 older. Look at him ! Thrown it all in a corner. 
 No, ye must wait. Ye're both young, and I'm an 
 old man. Goodness ! look here ! Maud's an 
 annoying girl, but I'd be put out without her. 
 Here's the mare. Come outside with ye. 
 Maud, I hear you're on again about gettin' 
 married. I won't have it. Ye've plenty of time 
 for that sort of thing." 
 
 "You're not fair, father. You're not a bit fair. 
 You won't listen to reason. You never discuss 
 anything. I'm not a child still. When will you 
 realize that?" 
 
 The old man lifted his shaggy eyebrows over 
 the lantern. He seemed rather surprised. 
 "Listen to reason! And you come to me when 
 everyone is in bed. Ye call that reason ! It's 
 just like you. Bah!" 
 
 "Maud is right, Mr. Neville. You haven't 
 been fair about this." Power's temper was 
 never hard to discover, and Maud frowned him 
 quiet. The old man looked at the ground, and
 
 36 PELICAN POOL 
 
 scratched his head a moment or two and 
 wagged it. 
 
 "I suppose. Power, ye'll be round in a day or 
 two?" 
 
 "I'm bringing cattle through the end of this 
 week." 
 
 "I'll talk about it then. Now be away with 
 you. Come home, Maud." 
 
 The old man of Surprise blew out the lantern 
 and began the journey to the house. Maud in 
 meek mood followed him. 
 
 "Good night, Jim," were her last words. 
 
 "Good night," Power called back. 
 
 Power saddled the mare, and let down the slip- 
 rail of the yard. His whip was coiled on his arm. 
 In a moment he was mounted and had turned 
 towards home.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 PELICAN POOL 
 
 KALOONA HOMESTEAD lies distant 
 from Surprise fifteen Queensland miles, 
 and the traveller by that road learns a 
 Queensland mile is a mile and anything you wish 
 beyond. The red track runs all the way over 
 outcrops of rock, across grassy levels and 
 through dry creek beds, nearly to the gateway 
 of the homestead. Kaloona Homestead stands 
 among timber on one of the big holes of the 
 river. 
 
 All the traffic of the neighbourhood takes this 
 direction, and keeps safe the roadway from the 
 teeth of the waiting bush. Once a week the 
 mine buggy journeys to outlying shafts. Out of 
 the distance crawl a pair of horses, an ancient 
 four-wheeled carriage, two men seated up there 
 in collarless shirts and khaki trousers, a swing- 
 ing waterbottle and a following of dust. Once a 
 month Mr. Carroll, timekeeper, armed with 
 revolver and sustained with thoughts of a peg 
 at the farther end, bumps along in the back seat 
 
 37
 
 38 PELICAN POOL 
 
 of the buggy with the pay for the smaller mines. 
 Along this path the horse-driver bullies a groan- 
 ing load to the mine furnaces, and wins the plain 
 by ready tongue and a generous hand. His dogs 
 shuffle in the shade of the waggon. The copper 
 gougers come in from labours in the far places, 
 and follow the red way to store and hotel ; and 
 the kangaroo shooter, astride his shabby beast, 
 arrives with empty provision bags from lonely 
 hunting grounds. But commonly you travel all 
 day under a greedy sun, and meet none of these 
 things. The plain rolls away, and no wayfarer 
 appears, unless there leap up a kangaroo 
 startled in his bed chamber. 
 
 Power took the homeward road with never a 
 thought to its emptiness. He was no apprentice 
 to the bush. He could read the signs of the way, 
 be the time day or night. Now a moon was in 
 the middle of the sky, the path was well trodden, 
 a fair mount carried him, and the night cooled 
 the journey would be done in the turning of his 
 thoughts. He rode with loose rein, idle spur, 
 and seat easy in the saddle. Yet a clever horse 
 might not have got the better of him. 
 
 The mare carried him at a fast walk, asking 
 neither check nor spur. Single tents, tents in 
 twos and threes, and rickety lean-tos rose up 
 among the gullies on both hands, and quickly a 
 score of them had fallen behind. In none burned
 
 PELICAN POOL 39 
 
 a light, and no greeting arrived other than the 
 quick bark of curs. A bend of the road and the 
 base of the hill cut off the camp. From now 
 forward the journey would prove a lonely 
 business. The creak of a saddle and the brief 
 pad of hoofs in the dust were to be the song of 
 voyage. 
 
 Afoot or on horseback, Power was a wide- 
 awake man. He saw most of what was worth 
 seeing. He could see, realize and do on the 
 instant. But he had his moments of reflection. 
 He was aware of the tents, the lean-tos and the 
 rubbish on the ground. But he had fallen into 
 thought before going far on the way. Were he 
 devout lover, now was the scene and now the 
 hour to delight in the virtues of his lady. 
 
 He loosened his feet in the stirrups to the tips 
 of his toes, and lifted his hat from his head. A 
 vague breeze moved across his cheek, and he 
 turned gratefully to it; but it was dead as soon 
 as it was born. Still, the night was cooling, and 
 the plain was wide and free after the verandah at 
 Surprise. The moon had taken station in the 
 middle of the sky, frighting all but a few stars 
 which gleamed wanly here and there. She was 
 a lamp to all that great red country by day full 
 of majesty, now touched to beauty by her genius. 
 The walk of the mare soothed him strangely. 
 
 Power was a man of fair learning and ex-
 
 40 PELICAN POOL 
 
 perience. He was a bushman born, but the 
 South had given him education of some width. 
 He had had a share of travel. He could remem- 
 ber other lands and fair cities. Men, now 
 forgotten, had rubbed shoulders with him ; and 
 one or two women had passed in and out of his 
 life with a few laughs and sighs. Seldom he 
 called them to mind. Maud Neville only had 
 brought him to captivity. Her brain was mate 
 for his brain, her heart was mate for his heart: 
 there would be bonds to bind them when passion 
 had passed away. 
 
 His thoughts went back to her, where he had 
 seen her last following the old man towards the 
 house. He found himself thinking very 
 tenderly of her. Soon now she would come 
 across to brighten the old homestead, and life 
 would never be quite the same again. He must 
 pull his habits into shape. He must remember 
 freedom would have to go in harness, and the 
 curb might chafe at first. He must be abroad 
 at dawn and home by nightfall, and give up this 
 riding over the country as the humour took him. 
 The cattle camp must see him less, the hearth 
 must see him more ; others could do the rough 
 work, and they would do it as well as he. 
 
 There came to mind the first time he had seen 
 Maud Neville, a day or two after the coach had 
 brought her from the South. He had not dis-
 
 PELICAN POOL 41 
 
 covered her charm in the beginning. He put a 
 high price on beauty always, and here was a girl 
 but poorly favoured. But that she made the old 
 man's home bright there was no denying, and 
 now he walked in willing captivity. He loved 
 her, and she loved him almost too well. She 
 read him to the last word, while her own face 
 was covered with a veil which he had not the 
 skill to pluck aside. She had said a little while 
 ago that he had much to learn in the art of 
 loving, and perhaps she had spoken the truth. 
 His affection only had his spare time, and was 
 shabby exchange for a spiritual love like her 
 own. Yet she seemed content. Well, she should 
 teach him in the days to come, and she would 
 find him a ready student. Just now he was on 
 the way home, and to-morrow was bringing a 
 long day with cattle. There were other things 
 for a man to do besides making love. 
 
 He tumbled back to everyday matters when 
 the mare whinnied loudly. He looked about 
 him. He found he had been carried into the 
 plains. Behind, and on the left hand, ranges 
 filled the horizon; ahead ran the dark belt of 
 timber which followed the river. Power g*essed 
 at it rather than saw it. Pelican Pool was four 
 miles away in a straight line; but the road bent 
 in a little distance, and met the river several 
 miles lower down.
 
 42 PELICAN POOL 
 
 All at once Power grew alert. The sight of a 
 riderless horse called for more than a meander 
 of thoughts. The animal stood a long way off 
 in the shadow of a small tree near the track. It 
 was saddled, and the reins hung to the ground. 
 Power looked about the neighbourhood for the 
 rider, and quickly found him, spread out in the 
 middle of the road. At once he shook the mare 
 into life and trotted forward. The horse under 
 the tree whinnied at their approach; but there 
 was no movement from the form in the path. 
 At the last moment the mare took fright, and 
 Power was hard employed to bring her to 
 reason. He jumped presently to the ground and 
 bent over the body. He found a heavy man in 
 middle years lying on his back, breathing with 
 deep snores. It was a matter for proof if the 
 man were hurt; but there was no doubt of his 
 drunkenness. A bottle of whisky filled a pocket. 
 The fellow's head was cut, and blood had dried 
 on it ; but search discovered no other injury, and 
 Power took him by the shoulder and shook him 
 firmly at first, afterwards roughly. The snores 
 turned into chokes, the chokes. became groans. 
 Power tired of such a tardy cure, and exchanged 
 hand for foot. The fallen man opened his eyes. 
 
 "Day, mate. Wot do you think you're doing 
 to a cove?" 
 
 "Are you all right?" Power said.
 
 PELICAN POOL 43 
 
 "Right enough to stop a cove going through 
 me pockets." The fellow licked his lips. "It's 
 flamin' hot, mate !" 
 
 "Get up," said Power. 
 
 "Wot's got you so blooming anxious?" 
 
 "I found you on the road just now. There's 
 the horse under the tree. It's midnight. You'll 
 have to hurry some to be anywhere by morn- 
 ing." 
 
 "I'm stayin' here." 
 
 "You'll perish when the sun gets up." There 
 was a silence while they looked at each other. 
 Then the man swore, struggled a little and sat 
 up. "Have you far to go?" Power said. 
 
 "Pelican Pool." 
 
 "Are you Gregory?" 
 
 "That's me when I'm home." 
 
 Power lost patience. "Well, what the devil 
 are you doing? Are you coming or staying?" 
 
 "You're a nice bloke to help a sick cove." 
 Gregory came across the whisky bottle. He 
 dragged it from his pocket, and waved it in the 
 moonlight. "I reckon I've a thirst you couldn't 
 buy ; no, not fer ten quid. Have one at the same 
 time? No! I reckoned as much from a long- 
 faced coot like you!" 
 
 "Get up," Power said, "and I'll give you a 
 hand with the horse." 
 
 The beast waited for Power to catch it.
 
 44 PELICAN POOL 
 
 Gregory had found his feet, and stood in the 
 middle of the path looking at the whisky bottle. 
 He proved very groggy; but recourse to the 
 bottle put him in braver spirit, and he fell to 
 cursing Surprise and all that lies within its gates. 
 
 "Here you are," Power said. "Go steady. 
 I'll leg you up." 
 
 It took trouble and a pretty play of oaths to 
 bring about the lifting up. The ,horse stood like 
 a rock. Gregory swore his leg was broken ; but 
 he gained the saddle, and afterwards kept 
 balance in a surprising way. Power, in no good 
 temper, turned things over, and decided to take 
 him to the Pool. It meant a journey longer by 
 five miles bad luck which swearing wouldn't 
 mend. 
 
 "Come on," he said. "I'm going your way. 
 Shake up that beast of yours. I don't want to be 
 all night." 
 
 He turned the mare's head to Pelican Pool, 
 and she started the journey, walking fast. The 
 other horse kept company at a jog-trot. 
 Gregory began a rough ride. But he held his 
 attention to the whisky bottle, and had spilled 
 a big part of it before they were a mile on the 
 way. The empty bottle was thrown grandly to 
 the ground. As time went by he turned very 
 friendly. 
 
 "I'll be showing you something in a mile or
 
 PELICAN POOL 45 
 
 two my oath ! yes the best copper show in the 
 Gulf, or in Queensland for that matter. There's 
 a fortune there, I say. D'yer hear me? I'll be 
 driving my buggy and pair yet. I'll be buying 
 more grog in a day than that cove at the pub 
 sells in a year. No more blanky shovelling for 
 me, you make no error. I'll have all the buyers 
 in the country there 'fore the week's out. Old 
 Neville down at Surprise, he'll be on his knees 
 prayin' me to sell it him. 'Ear me?" 
 
 "I hear you," Power said. And with the last 
 bit of good temper left he added, "Are you far 
 down ?" 
 
 "Matter o' thirty foot, and ore all the way. I 
 tell yer I'll be the richest man this side of Bris- 
 bane. 'Ear wot I say?" 
 
 With spells of talk and spells of silence, they 
 made the rest of the journey. Gregory was 
 more master of himself on a horse than on the 
 ground, and at the hour's end the travelling was 
 done. Where they approached it the river ran 
 in the rains with a two-mile span; but now the 
 bed was dry and filled with stones and sand. 
 Many mean trees grew in this country. Over 
 stones and sand the riders passed, and under 
 trees bearing in their branches the rubbish of 
 forgotten floods. As they went on, the timber 
 became dense and grew to a noble size; and 
 presently here and there among distant laced
 
 46 PELICAN POOL 
 
 branches showed the surface of Pelican Pool. 
 The water was lit by the light of the moon. The 
 Pool was shrinking every day; but it still 
 covered a mile of country, and its breadth was a 
 fair swimmer's journey. 
 
 "Where's the camp ?" Power said. 
 
 "By the castor-oil bush." 
 
 Thereupon they inclined to the right hand. 
 Large reaches of the Pool were now plainly to 
 be seen very fair they showed in the moon- 
 light, with weeds trailing about the water, and 
 here and there a large white lily a-bloom. Small 
 fishes leaped in the shallows. Trees leaned 
 patiently over both banks, spreading knotted 
 arms. Now the camp came out of the trees. 
 Two tents were rigged side by side ; and not very 
 far off had been built a room of poles and 
 hessian. About an open-air fireplace were the 
 ashes of the day's fire. A dog tied near the 
 tents uncurled at their coming, and fell to bark- 
 ing with great good will. 
 
 "We're here," Gregory said. "The old woman 
 must have turned in." 
 
 "Better quiet the dog, then," Power answered. 
 "Go steady there. I'll see you down." 
 
 He jumped to the ground and threw a stone at 
 the dog, which dropped its tail and stopped bark- 
 ing. He held Gregory's horse, and Gregory 
 climbed down. The man was fairly on his legs,
 
 PELICAN POOL 47 
 
 when a keen voice called from one of the tents 
 "Is that you, boss? Boosed, I suppose?" 
 
 "There's a gen'leman here to see yer." 
 Gregory shouted. 
 
 "Wot?" 
 
 "A gen'leman to see yer." 
 
 "Aw, blast yer, come to bed an' don't wake 
 me up." 
 
 "I tell yer a gen'leman's here." 
 
 "Can't yer shut it?" 
 
 "Gen'leman. I say. Gen'leman." 
 
 A pause followed on this. At last the voice 
 from the tent cried "Get up, Moll, and see wot 
 dad's after. I've not had a square sleep fer a 
 week." 
 
 "Aw," said somebody in the second tent. 
 
 But in that tent a person stirred. Gregory 
 shouted again. "Be quick, Moll. Light a 
 lantern. The moon's no good to me in these 
 durned trees." 
 
 "Wait a minute, can't yer?" 
 
 Power picked up the reins and remounted the 
 mare. He had had his fill of the affair, and was 
 riding away. "You're right now," he said to 
 Gregory. "Good night." The gleam of a 
 lantern appeared through the canvas of the tent. 
 "Good night," Power called out a second time. 
 The tent door was pushed aside, and a girl came
 
 48 PELICAN POOL 
 
 into the open, holding a lighted lantern above 
 her head. 
 
 Power pulled up his beast. The girl that stood 
 there was scantily dressed. Her hair fell down 
 her back. She was very near him, and she held 
 the lantern that she might look him over; but 
 the rays of light fell all about her own head and 
 shoulders. She stared at him, not a whit dis- 
 turbed at the sudden meeting. 
 
 A moment had brought Power face to face 
 with the great experience of his life. The girl's 
 beauty was beyond any imagining. He sat 
 astride the mare with dropped reins, staring at 
 her. 
 
 There, in a broken tent, in that forgotten place 
 by the river, was one of those women who have 
 commanded the tears and prayers of men since 
 the world began to turn. The girl stood with 
 the light of the lantern falling about her, with 
 that in the carriage of her head for which a sage 
 would forget his learning, with that in her eyes 
 for which a saint would forego his hope of Para- 
 dise, with that in her form for which a poet 
 would break the strings of his lyre. To look a 
 moment on her was to grow hungry, to look long 
 on her was to banish peace. 
 
 For that most cunning work of a great crafts- 
 man was a chalice holding the poisoned potion 
 of desire; that rich body was an altar whereon
 
 PELICAN POOL 49 
 
 burned the fires of longing; that loveliness was 
 doomed to linger as midwife to men's tears. The 
 spirit of all that is untamed made home in that 
 form, and beside it dwelt the spirit of all that 
 shall not find rest. And sight of that fairness 
 brought taste of what man reaches for and may 
 not touch, of what man climbs after to fall from 
 with bruised knees. 
 
 Her figure was quick and strong and supple ; 
 her hair lay about her head as an aureole ; her 
 eyes were great and bright and deep; her feet 
 were slender and without blemish; her lips 
 waited on the coming of some supreme adven- 
 ture. 
 
 Quite suddenly Power found the girl speaking 
 to him. She held her head a little sideways and 
 was looking over him. 
 
 "Are you camping here, Mister?" she said. 
 
 Power was startled out of his words. He sat 
 up straight again. "No, thanks. I came along 
 with your father. I'm going on now." 
 
 "We can give you a shake-down. It's no 
 worry." 
 
 "No, thanks. I must get home. I'm muster- 
 ing to-morrow. Good night." 
 
 "Good night, Mister." 
 
 Power rode home at a foot pace. He thought 
 of the girl all the way. Her beauty had moved 
 him more than anything he had known.
 
 50 PELICAN POOL 
 
 Midnight had chimed at Surprise, and the 
 camp was asleep. The party telling stories from 
 their long chairs outside the staff quarters had 
 been broken up an hour since in a last "A-haw." 
 Mr. Wells had forgotten his cornet, and Mr. 
 Horrington, rather muddled, had found his 
 stretcher and blown out the light. Houses, 
 humpies and tents were in the dark. But out- 
 side, the pallor of the moon fell, making filigree 
 work of the leaves on the trees, and staring 
 coldly into the eyes of sleepy curs, which blinked 
 back from their beds in the grasses. 
 
 The camp was asleep; but one person had 
 stayed awake. The slight figure of a woman sat 
 at the top of the steps leading down from the 
 verandah of Neville's house. She sat crouched 
 up, chin in hands, so still as to be unearthly. She 
 had sat thus with hardly a movement for a long 
 time. 
 
 Maud had said good night to her father on 
 their return. The house had seemed stifling. 
 She went into her bedroom, drew the curtains 
 wide from the window so that the room was 
 filled with light, opened the door leading to the 
 verandah, undressed, and went to bed. For 
 more than an hour she lay awake, counting the 
 moonbeams on the wall, and listening to the 
 song of the mosquitoes. Then she gave up pre- 
 tence. She sat up in bed, slipped a wrap round
 
 PELICAN POOL 51 
 
 her, and crossed to the window on bare feet. 
 The night looked very charming outside, and 
 soon she left the room, crossed the bare boards 
 lightly as a night spirit, and came to a little 
 balcony at the head of the steps leading down 
 from the verandah. She sat down on the top 
 step, putting her naked feet on the one below. 
 
 Yes, the night was charming out here calm, 
 empty and cooled by the ghosts of little breezes, 
 which fluttered an instant on her face and 
 fainted. There was pleasure in believing that 
 she was the only one awake. It was strange to 
 look on this slumbering camp, bearding the 
 wilderness. She might have been a sentry watch- 
 ing that the hungry bush did not devour it in the 
 hours of night. This habit of keeping the 
 night watch had become a custom lately. The 
 hour brought her more profit than any other of 
 the twenty-four. She was not hot and fagged; 
 she spoke the truth to herself; she could trust 
 her judgments. The calm watered her soul as a 
 shower of rain, so that it swelled up, and flowers 
 broke from it. It was wonderful this growth of 
 soul which lately had been her portion, this 
 serenity brought about by losing herself in 
 another. Sitting here, she told herself how 
 thankful she ought to be. Night was very kind, 
 like some nurse who whispers her child into 
 sweet dreams.
 
 52 PELICAN POOL 
 
 This comprehension of life, this sureness of 
 decision, had all grown up in two years. This 
 renouncing of oneself that another might profit 
 was the fountain from which gushed the purest 
 waters at which the spirit could drink. Yet how 
 many drank at that fountain? Instead, they sat 
 at the windows of their houses in the streets of 
 life, and remarked indifferently the pale faces 
 glued to the panes across the way. Unless it 
 happened that someone, sick with the bloodless 
 silence, broke down one of those bolted doors 
 and pushed inside, the faces sat always staring 
 down the street, and the winds of desolation 
 sweeping down the chimney at even, scattered 
 the flames upon the hearth, and starved the 
 watchers at their seats. 
 
 A good love was a wonderful thing, like the 
 fire of the refiner, burning away the dross and 
 leaving the pure metal. She had found it a 
 philosopher's stone, making life golden, giving 
 her humour to laugh when her father was tire- 
 some, leaving her proof against the little annoy- 
 ances of the day. And better than that. No 
 shortcomings in the man she loved caused her 
 misgiving now. He was easy to anger; a little 
 selfish sometimes ; he was thoughtless often. 
 But love had brought understanding of him, and 
 understanding meant forgiveness. She blessed 
 him as she thought of him on his way across
 
 PELICAN POOL 53 
 
 the plain, rejoicing that she might serve him. 
 thankful to him for the growth of spirit he had 
 caused in her. 
 
 The little breezes sighed, fanned her a 
 moment and passed on, a few leaves turned on 
 the trees; but she sat wrapped in the serenity of 
 her contemplation.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 KALOONA RUN 
 
 POWER was abroad again before sunrise. 
 Daylight moved over the country, and he 
 bathed, dressed, and pulled on his boots 
 while butcher birds called, and small finches 
 bobbed and twittered in the bushes. As he made 
 an end of his task, the sun rose with menacing 
 countenance. He went outside, looked which 
 way the breeze was, and next walked down the 
 track to the stable. He stopped at the door, 
 threw it open, and cried out loud, "Scandalous 
 Jack! Hullo there!" 
 
 At the back of the stable sounded a shuffling, 
 and a small man, with bristling beard and 
 chipped yellow teeth set in a weather-worn face, 
 came out of the shadow, broom in hand. He 
 stood in front of Power, and put his hands 
 together on top of the broom handle, spat care- 
 fully, wiped his hairy mouth and shouted 
 "Marnin', Gnv'nor. You're late." 
 
 Power nodded. "I was late back from Surprise 
 last night. "I'll be away after breakfast 
 though. Did they get in the black horse?"
 
 KALOONA RUN 55 
 
 "Aye, they brought him in yesterday. He 
 broke from the mob and showed Mick his heels 
 for two mile. He's first rate a bit soft maybe 
 and as cranky as ever. Ye must watch him or 
 he'll pelt you this side o' the flat. Aye, aye, ye 
 may ride above a bit, but I'm telling yer." 
 Scandalous jerked his head. 
 
 "I'll look at him." 
 
 "Come on then/' 
 
 The two men disappeared into the stable. 
 They came to a stall at the end of a row, and 
 there, tied to a ring in the manger, stood a grand 
 upstanding horse, black-coated from poll to 
 coronet, which met their coming with ears laid 
 down and a white flash of teeth. It was an 
 animal to fill the eye of any man. It stood at 
 sixteen hands to an inch or so either way, ribbed 
 up as a barrel, with great quarters and shoulders 
 sloped for speed. Its head was delicate for all 
 its other proportions, but there was that in the 
 eye to tell a man to go about his business warily. 
 It showed a fair condition for a first day's 
 stabling. 
 
 "Yes, he's pretty right," Power said. He 
 called out to the animal to stand over, and went 
 to its head, and he had looked it all about before 
 coming away. 
 
 "Mick got off with his lot?" he said. 
 
 Scandalous Jack went on speaking at a shout.
 
 56 PELICAN POOL 
 
 "Aye, they were away be four in the marnin'. 
 Mick says he'll be mustered and have the mob 
 at Ten Mile midday. You're meeting him there, 
 Guv'nor, for the cutting out, I reckon?" Power 
 nodded his head. "Mick says to-night's camp's 
 going up lower end of Pelican Pool." Scandalous 
 looked very wise. 
 
 "What do you mean ?" 
 
 "Mick's doin' good work there." 
 
 "You're a fool, Scandalous." 
 
 "I may be that. Some fools see more than 
 wise men with spectacles. Have ye heard about 
 the gouger's girl there?" 
 
 "What about her?" 
 
 "Mick's silly as a snake on her. They say she's 
 a daddy for looks." 
 
 "I'm for breakfast," Power said. "Give this 
 horse a look over. I'll want him in an hour." 
 
 Power went to breakfast. It was ready for 
 him in a low bare room, with fly netting on doors 
 and windows. One door opened on a verandah, 
 where creepers waged war with the climate. 
 Mrs. Elliott, the cook, and Maggie, the maid of 
 all other work, had found excuse to wait for him. 
 He knew the sign of old, and prepared to be dis- 
 creet. He nodded his good morning. "Break- 
 fast in?" he asked. 
 
 Maggie answered with great good will. "It's 
 been getting cold this ten minutes."
 
 KALOONA RUN 57 
 
 She was a handsome girl in the early morning, 
 before the heat fagged her. Mrs. Elliott, in 
 middle life, ample and beaming, busied herself 
 briskly doing nothing, waiting to take the talk 
 her way. The two women attacked him 
 together. 
 
 "You must eat a good breakfast, Mr. Power. 
 You've a long day before you. You were very 
 late abed, Mr. Power. You can't burn the 
 candle at both ends." 
 
 "He's always late, Mrs. Elliott, when he comes 
 back from Surprise." The women shook their 
 heads at each other. "And how was Miss 
 Neville, Mr. Power?" 
 
 "She was very well, thanks. I must get a 
 turkey or a wallaby. I've lost my appetite for 
 curry and steak half the week, and steak and 
 curry the other half." 
 
 "And me so put about with the breakfast," 
 exclaimed Mrs. Elliott, twisting her apron. "All 
 men are the same, ungrateful, every man jack 
 o' them. As soon look for gratitude from calves 
 in a branding yard. Now I suppose as Miss 
 Neville she'll be turning over a date for the 
 wedding?" 
 
 "You're learning too many secrets, Mrs. 
 Elliott." 
 
 "I know more than other folk already." 
 
 "And that means?"
 
 58 PELICAN POOL 
 
 Mrs. Elliott twirled her apron once more and 
 looked wise. "I'm hinting nothing. I know 
 where Mick O'Neill goes of a night." 
 
 Power tipped himself back in the chair. "What 
 are you cackling over this morning? I hope 
 your news is fresher than last?" 
 
 "What's he running after that gel for?" 
 
 "I've not heard of any girl." 
 
 "He's a good fer nothing fellow, and the little 
 hussy's no better." 
 
 Maggie took up the tale. "They're all stupid 
 on her 'cos she has a few looks. That's all a 
 man wants." 
 
 "They're not all like that, Meg. Mr. Power 
 here, he has more sense. He took up with Miss 
 Neville, and though she's as nice as may be, her 
 looks are nothing out of the bag." 
 
 Power said something under his breath. He 
 went on with his breakfast, and the women des- 
 paired of him. In the end, out of a full mouth, 
 he said: 
 
 "You had better see Scandalous Jack. I'm too 
 hungry for talking. He wanted to tell me a lot 
 this morning." 
 
 "That nasty little man! I wouldn't demean 
 myself with him. I told him half an hour since 
 I'd put a kettle o' water over him if he showed 
 his ugly face in at the door agen." 
 
 The women withdrew routed.
 
 KALOONA RUN 59 
 
 In a little while Power followed them from the 
 room. Standing in the verandah, he lit a pipe. 
 His swag had gone on in the cook's waggon, and 
 there remained only a few minutes' office work 
 and he might get away. The old willingness to 
 be in the saddle took hold of him. His heart 
 was in the cattle work. The longest day made 
 him more ready for the next. A good horse, a 
 whip to his hand, the bellow of a mob in his ears 
 these things kept his heart evergreen. 
 
 Morning had come, the birds had whistled 
 him from bed, the sun had climbed up ; but the 
 glamour of last night had not passed quite away. 
 He found himself and little pleased he was at it 
 he found himself more than once waking to the 
 day's affairs from dreams of a girl holding up a 
 lantern at the doorway of a tent by a river. 
 
 Mrs. Elliott had forgiven the churlishness of 
 breakfast, and waited with an ample lunch, 
 secure from sun and flies. He promised to be 
 back some day or other, took up a dripping 
 water-bag and his whip, and passed to the stable. 
 The black horse, saddled and waiting, fidgeted 
 by the door, and Scandalous Jack was taking 
 aggressive charge. 
 
 Scandalous thrust up his hard face to shout a 
 warning. 
 
 "He'll be shaking yer up, boss, I reckon. He 
 fooled me half an hour 'fore I had the saddle 
 on him."
 
 6o PELICAN POOL 
 
 "Wants a day's work," Power said. He looked 
 over the girths and secured the water-bag. All 
 he did was gentle and cautions. At the touch 
 of the wet canvas the black horse snorted, 
 reared up and swung about. Scandalous, very 
 fond of his corns, retired in a hurry. With voice 
 and a firm handling Power kept the beast in 
 check. He had completed matters in a few 
 minutes. Whereupon he coiled the whip on his 
 arm, and drew together the reins. He went 
 about the mounting with cunning, and when the 
 moment of moments came, was in the saddle in 
 one movement. 
 
 The black horse squealed, and its head went 
 down between its legs as a stone from a catapult. 
 It came high off the ground, all four feet 
 together, in a great bucking plunge which tried 
 all Power's skill to ride. The ground fell away 
 from him and spun about, there came to His ears 
 a great straining of leather, and he knew a fierce 
 shock as the brute went to earth. Instinct set 
 him leaning back, with legs fierce gripping and 
 toes down pointing. Horse and rider went up 
 again, with a heave tremendous beyond belief, 
 and there was an instant when Power stared 
 down at emptiness. They were down and up in 
 one breathing, and away with great bounds that 
 threw them across the yard. A heave, a thud, 
 a grunt and a swing brought them about, and
 
 KALOONA RUN 61 
 
 on the heels of it they were going up into the 
 air again. Down then and up into space again, 
 all four feet together, groaning with the effort, 
 while the hot dust streamed into Power's face. 
 The rally was over in a dozen seconds, and the 
 horse stood heaving, and Power settled himself 
 in the saddle. 
 
 "Rough horse that !" Scandalous shouted from 
 the fence. 
 
 "He makes it too hot to last." 
 
 "Don't take him cheap on that lay. He'll be 
 rid of yer yet. He'll give yer all you know one 
 of these days, and I'm taking no odds on who's 
 the better." 
 
 It had just turned eight o'clock when Power 
 began the ride, but already the sun was power- 
 ful, and the birds flagged at their songs. He 
 journeyed at walking pace, watching the horse 
 carefully the first few miles. Last traces of early 
 cool were departing. A few threads of gossamer 
 shimmered among the spikes of the grasses, and 
 blundering hoofs tore them apart. A few feed- 
 ing kangaroos sat at late breakfast. The home- 
 stead moved behind the trees, and he and the 
 beast he rode were all that passed across the 
 plain. 
 
 He grew contented at once now he had made 
 a beginning of the day's work. As another man 
 forgets his ill-humours in the counting-house.
 
 62 PELICAN POOL 
 
 or the library, or his mistress's bower, so Power 
 turned for distraction to his saddle and his whip. 
 A bushman's heart was his birthright; a bush- 
 man's cunning was the legacy of fiery summer 
 afternoons on horseback, and frosty winter 
 dawns spent abroad. In the dreariest page of 
 Nature he found reading. His eye was quick to 
 read the riddle of the ways. The fall of a hill, 
 the sweep of a dry creek bed, a few patterings of 
 passage in the dust these answered most ques- 
 tions he asked. In that country was no better 
 judge of where to come up with a mob of cattle, 
 nor one, be it night or day, who rode straighter 
 to a point. He passed over the plain sitting easy 
 in the saddle, pipe in mouth, whip on arm, his 
 head fallen forward, as a man sits asleep. But 
 his eyes peered abroad, and his brain was active. 
 He rode to muster as the knight of old rode to 
 the tourney. 
 
 His way led by a short cut through the 
 ranges. The trysting place lay just beyond. At 
 a few miles end, he was entering a pass of 
 magnificence. The ranges lifted up on either 
 hand, with mighty boulders resting about their 
 sides, and difficult caves home of bat and 
 wallaby opening dark months. The way took 
 him below stunted trees, and over brittle fallen 
 boughs, and across stones which slipped beneath 
 the horse's feet. A second gully crossed the
 
 KALOONA RUN 63 
 
 head of the pass, and escapes led into the hills. 
 Here was an old watch-ground of the blacks. 
 The difficult part of the journey had come. 
 Power left the saddle for the ground. The path 1 
 turned left-handed, to clamber over a multitude 
 of rocks to easier country. In the rains a water- 
 fall swirled this way. Here and again here a 
 pool of clear water was lodged in a basin of rock, 
 and above one such pool Nature had scooped a 
 shelter in the hill. Past tribes of men had left 
 rude paintings on the wall. With snorts and 
 steadying cries the journey was done, and man 
 and beast came out into a wide timbered pros- 
 pect. 
 
 It was a fair spot to hap on in that desolate 
 country, with a good gathering of trees about 
 a dry creek bed, and one or two late birds 
 twittering in them, and a muster of insects going 
 about their day's work over the hot ground. 
 There were grateful patches of shade. This was 
 Ten Mile. At noon O'Neill had vowed to be at 
 hand with the mob. Power looked at the sun 
 and guessed at ten o'clock. He turned over 
 whether to go farther; but a wait in the shade 
 was better argument than a ride in the open. He 
 took the saddle from the black horse, and 
 tethered the beast in a cool place, and he him- 
 self lay down at hand for a pipe and his thoughts. 
 Presently a thread of smoke curled into the hot
 
 64 PELICAN POOL 
 
 air, driving away disappointed the flies which 
 came in their hosts a-visiting. 
 
 It was pleasant work lying here in the shade 
 with nothing to disturb a fellow for an hour or 
 two until the cattle came along, and the sunshine 
 heat finding a way into the shadow to make a 
 man drowsy. It was good to lie flat on one's 
 back, blinking at the sunbeams through the 
 leaves. It was good, too, to suck at a pipe and 
 watch the blue smoke go up. And again it was 
 good listening to the twitter of a few birds, and 
 opening eyes to see insects examining the 
 ins and outs of the tree trunks. It brought 
 memories of other such lazy hours, snatched 
 between a hard morning and a hard afternoon. 
 Give a man good health and work, and there was 
 little else he wanted to bring content. 
 
 How the smell of the scrub lingered this morn- 
 ing. Ordinarily the sun drove it early away. 
 If he lived too long and became an old blind man, 
 he would get someone to lead him to a patch of 
 scrub at early morning that he might sharpen 
 memory there. 
 
 It must be hot in the open. The sunlight was 
 burning him wherever a break in the boughs let 
 it through. He was a lucky chap to own this 
 great stretch of country, and every head of 
 cattle on it, to have good horses to ride, and to 
 be his own master. No doubt there were un-
 
 KALOONA RUN 65 
 
 lucky devils who never had these good things. 
 A man knew little enough of other men when all 
 was said and done, and cared little enough for 
 their troubles either, if truth be told. 
 
 Yet things were a shade out of tune to-day, 
 pretend as he might ; put the feeling by as he 
 would. Presently he sat up. With an oath, he 
 knocked out his empty pipe on a stone. He 
 whipped himself for a fool. He was a man with 
 a mind of his own, he was in love with another 
 woman ; and a girl twenty years old, who had not 
 spoken a dozen words to him, was taking up his 
 thoughts all day. Ah ! but she was the most per- 
 fect thing he had known. 
 
 The heat of the day came into the spot of his 
 choosing, the sun climbed into the sky, and he 
 judged the hour towards noon. He rose to his 
 feet, pushed a handkerchief about his face, and 
 grew busy gathering sticks on a square of barren 
 ground. 
 
 There came through the timber, after many 
 minutes, a far-off murmur, such as might travel 
 from a distant surge of the sea, or from a heavy 
 wind moving in a hollow. It was vague, and 
 many would have been at pains to pick it up; but 
 the horse lifted ears to it, and Power came out of 
 his brown study. It arrived as a murmur ; but 
 the passing minutes gave it volume. It was 
 strangely exciting. Power knew it from the
 
 66 PELICAN POOL 
 
 beginning. It was the roar of a mob of cattle 
 driven against their will. 
 
 Presently the sound turned to broken bellow- 
 ing, and into the tumult entered the snapping of 
 boughs, the bang of whips, and the fierce voices 
 of men. Power stood up. The mob must round 
 the foot of a hill before coming into view. He 
 laid a hand on the horse's bridle and waited for 
 them. 
 
 They came in a little while one or two as a 
 beginning, afterwards the body of them. They 
 dawdled forward, picking at the grass tufts, 
 horning one another, and lifting heads to 
 bellow. They showed to the eye a hardy, good- 
 coloured mob of store cattle, the big part of them 
 six-year bullocks, more ready for a doze by 
 a waterhole than for this journey in the sun with 
 men hanging at their houghs. They counted 
 two hundred maybe, and three white stockmen 
 and a couple of blackfellows handled them, turn- 
 ing them on the flanks, and hunting them for- 
 ward in the rear. They were a suspicion 
 nervous, and gave Power a wide berth; but the 
 noon heat made them easy handling. By the 
 time they were round the foot of the hill, a stock- 
 man, pulling about his horse, rid himself of their 
 company and cantered across. The man pulled 
 up a big chestnut animal a few yards from 
 Power, and showed a happy, handsome face
 
 KALOONA RUN 67 
 
 under a big brimmed hat. He was a good figure 
 of a man, riding his horse with a swagger. He 
 had wide kneepads to his saddle, and long rusty 
 spurs at his heels, a shirt wide open at the neck, 
 and in his hand a whip. His skin was brown. 
 Sitting there, he looked a hardy fellow, one to 
 put a good day's work behind him. 
 
 He had pulled his horse up from the canter. 
 "Day, Mr. Power." 
 
 "Good day, Mick. They came along all 
 right?" 
 
 "Yes, boss. A strong lot. Good travellers. 
 An' quiet enough too. We'll make Morning 
 Springs Wednesday certain." 
 
 Power nodded his head. "Did you cut those 
 few out ?" 
 
 "All bar a half-dozen. We can .fix 'em at the 
 camp to-night. There's a roan bull to be 
 dropped. I don't know how he came with this 
 lot. I didn't see him when we picked 'em up. 
 He wants watching. He's cranky in the head." 
 So speaking, the man leaned over and pointed 
 his whip at a beast on the outside of the 
 mob. "I suppose we're making camp here for 
 an hour or two." 
 
 "My oath, yes. I'll get a fire going." 
 
 Mick O'Neill turned his horse about and put 
 it to the canter. Again he made a figure be- 
 coming his name as the daddy stockman for a
 
 68 PELICAN POOL 
 
 hundred miles about. Power filled a quart pot 
 at the water-bag, and built and lit a fire. The 
 flames rushed to embrace the hot wood. Others 
 of the company arrived with filled quart pots and 
 pushed them into the flames. The blackfellows 
 held the cattle until they had drawn out and 
 dropped to their knees. The horses were un- 
 saddled and unbitted. The quart pots came 
 from the fire. The tea was made. The sticks 
 were trodden into the sand, and the company 
 took themselves into the shade, to sprawl there, 
 one eye waiting for the cattle, one hand waiting 
 for the flies. 
 
 They kept to camp through the heat of the 
 day, and little was spoken the while. They 
 smoked and stared up through a lattice of leaves 
 at the lofty sky. The fierceness of the sun was 
 spent when Power gave the signal by sitting up. 
 The horses were saddled, the men found their 
 seats there was galloping of hoofs, a bang- 
 ing of whips, and the mob flowed on the journey 
 over the plain. 
 
 It was half-past six in the evening and the sun 
 was down on the western sky, when the 
 mob splashed into the shallows at the lower end 
 of Pelican Pool. Cleanskin Joe, the lean rusty 
 cook, who had spent a busy life darkening the 
 doorways of most hotels in Queensland and New 
 South Wales, had arrived there early in the
 
 KALOONA RUN 69 
 
 morning, steering a two-horse buckboard 
 loaded up with swags, camp furniture and tucker 
 bags. Cleanskin Joe had built his fireplace, had 
 put his Johnnie-cake in the ashes, had talked half 
 the day with Jackie the black horse-tailer, 
 coming after him with spare horses. Now, with 
 his stew simmering, he cast a hundred glances 
 into the distance for the tardy cattle. His eyes, 
 once quick to meet an emergency, were bleared 
 a trifle from that constant darkening of doors. 
 But finally they and his ears could not be 
 deceived, and he peered into the camp oven and 
 turned the contents with a long-handled ladle. 
 
 Now all the world knows that cooks from 
 sheep stations give you grilled chops and curry 
 and stew the round of the year, and cooks on 
 cattle stations serve grilled steak and curry and 
 stew until you turn aside in sorrow; but Clean- 
 skin Joe was a man of resource, and every break- 
 fast he chopped up rissoles, rolling them on the 
 back of the buckboard where had gathered the 
 grime of ten years' honest service. Because of 
 this, and because too many whiskies had cured 
 him of a love of water, either for inside or outer 
 use, he had won his name of Cleanskin Joe. 
 
 He was a man of history. 
 
 Once upon a time Cleanskin Joe and the 
 Honourable So-and-so, both out at elbows with 
 the world just then, had found a copper show a
 
 70 PELICAN POOL 
 
 round forty miles from the nearest hotel. They 
 woke up one morning on bowing terms with 
 wealth. They had broken a new lode going 
 any percentage you like of ore. They stared at 
 it without a word to say. 
 
 The Honourable So-and-so had a vision. He 
 saw dogs and women and wine. 
 
 And Cleanskin Joe saw the price of a whisky. 
 
 And Mr. So-and-so saw horses and cards and 
 more wine. 
 
 And Cleanskin Joe saw the price of another 
 whisky. 
 
 And Mr. So-and-so saw freedom from the 
 Jews, and green tables and yet more wine. 
 
 And Cleanskin Joe saw prices of endless 
 whiskies. 
 
 Then said Mr. So-and-so, "Our one chance, 
 old man, is to miss the hotel." Cleanskin Joe 
 wagged his head. Said Mr. So-and-so, "We 
 must cut the waggon road to miss it by a dozen 
 miles." 
 
 They drove their road over rise and down dip, 
 plying the tools with right good will because of 
 that vision. One night Mr. So-and-so would say 
 "How about direction, dear fellow? Are we 
 enough to the right?" And next night it was 
 Cleanskin Joe. "I reckon we're safe to miss that 
 blankey place now, holdin' left as we're doing." 
 
 But who shall win when Fate plays hide-and-
 
 KALOONA RUN 71 
 
 seek? On the hottest day of the hottest summer 
 in man's memory, they drove the road into a 
 clearing of the bush where the doors of the 
 Drink-me-Dry Hotel leaned open to meet them. 
 
 Cleanskin Joe blinked his eyes through the 
 smoke when Power cantered up. "Evening, 
 boss. I was lookin' for yer an hour since. What 
 time do yer want tucker ready?" 
 
 "Half an hour will finish us. There's a bit 
 of cutting out to do. What about a drop of 
 tea?" 
 
 "Right on the spot. Take care. It's durned 
 hot." 
 
 Power drank the tea, and urged his horse 
 about. The bullocks straggled from the pool 
 where they had been drinking. Power had given 
 orders to keep the horses from water, and the 
 cattle were rounded up on the way from the 
 shallows. 
 
 Presently the mob was bunched. First there 
 came a time of talking and shaking of heads. At 
 the end of it, Power and O'Neill worked a way 
 into the jumble of animals, looking this way and 
 that for the half dozen cows, and keeping a wide 
 eye for accidents. The beasts gave them fair 
 roadway, backing over here and there with 
 snorting and a sweep of the head. "Here we 
 are," Power said.
 
 72 PELICAN POOL 
 
 He leaned a little forward and with a nice 
 movement dropped his whip on to the quarters 
 of a red cow. On the instant the black horse 
 answered the signal. Power gave the reins to 
 its neck and sat back with waiting whip. Not 
 far away O'Neill followed ready for what might 
 come. The black horse moved to the red cow's 
 shoulder, and steered her with a pretty cunning 
 to the outside of the mob, nor lost place a single 
 time, though she twisted, turned and propped 
 with skill. It was a game of trick and shift to 
 liven the eye of any man. She came presently 
 to the outermost circle, bellowing with nervous- 
 ness and hurry. The black horse was at her 
 shoulder goading her farther into the open. She 
 lost her head and trotted a few paces from the 
 mob, and that moment turned the scales against 
 her. As the black horse got into his stride, 
 Power let out his whip, and O'Neill came up 
 behind with a hurry of hoofs. They fell upon 
 her with a scramble of blows. She bellowed, 
 threw up her head, tried to swing back to the 
 mob, slipped, heard the bang of whips about her 
 ears, and took to her heels across the plain, with 
 both men at her tail. She showed them her 
 heels for a quarter of a mile. "She's right !" 
 Power cried out. 
 
 The last of the cows was cut out as dusk began 
 to settle. There remained only a few minutes to
 
 KALOONA RUN 73 
 
 dark. "There's that bull yet," Power said. He 
 sat on a heaving horse, and lifted his hat from 
 his head. The men pushed a passage into the 
 mob again. The herd was showing rather 
 nervous, and took handling to hold together. 
 The roan bull met their coming with a bellow 
 and a shake of the head. But the black horse 
 stood to his shoulder, and the journey to the out- 
 side began. All the way the bull showed little 
 liking for the hustling, but his efforts to trick 
 the enemy availed him nothing, and he found 
 himself of a sudden on the outside of the mob, 
 and a black horse urging him farther into the 
 open. In a flash he turned very ugly. It was 
 the turn of a hair whether he rushed or not. 
 There was no waiting to add up chances, a 
 wasted moment meant his loss into the mob. 
 Power brought his whip down, and a long broad 
 mark curled up in the smoking hair. The bull 
 roared and dropped his head. He was coming 
 this time with no two meanings. Power 
 swept up the reins to pull the horse aside. 
 Ill luck was at his back. He found him- 
 self jammed in a press of cattle. He shook 
 his feet clear of the stirrups. He made ready 
 with the whip again. He cut into the bull again, 
 and he felt the horse go beneath him, and him- 
 self falling back into a huddle of bellowing 
 beasts. With all his might he pulled the horse
 
 74 PELICAN POOL 
 
 clear of the horns. Horse and bull and he came 
 down in a scurry on the ground. He rolled 
 clear of the saddle. He scrambled on to a knee. 
 He spat the dust from his mouth. And then the 
 mob at his back split, and O'Neill rode up in a 
 fury, a whip waiting in his hand. The bull was 
 on its knees, jerking to its feet. A hurry of 
 blows fell about its face. It stumbled, slipped, 
 and sprawled on its back. The whip stopped fall- 
 ing, and a man jumped from his horse to the 
 ground. With great quickness he caught up the 
 bull's tail, and thrust a foot into a hollow of its 
 hip. Thus he held it on the ground without any 
 great effort. There was shouting as the men 
 called to each other. 
 
 "Are yer orl right?" 
 
 "Think so." 
 
 "Can you get clear?" 
 
 "Aye !" 
 
 On the words followed a scramble of hoofs 
 and a heave as the black horse gained his 
 haunches. Power was on his feet, and had 
 thrown a leg across the saddle. Another 
 scramble, another heave gave the horse its legs 
 and Power a seat a-top of it. Power swung it to 
 one hand with rein and spurs, and leant far from 
 the saddle towards the horse standing by. "Let 
 go when you can!" he cried out. "I have your 
 horse !"
 
 KALOONA RUN 75 
 
 The man on the ground sprang clear of the 
 bull. He clapped both hands on the arch of 
 the saddle, and vaulted into the seat. Shaken, 
 and with lost breath, the bull found its feet, but 
 it had not thrown the sweat from its eyes before 
 the whips fell on it with a cruel fury. Its courage 
 was no more. It took to its heels across the 
 plain. 
 
 "Close go that," O'Neill said. "Are you hurt 
 any?" 
 
 "No, I fell clear. You got me out of a hole. 
 I'll do as much for you some day." 
 
 "All in a day's work," O'Neill said. " 'Struth ! 
 I reckon it's time for a pipe." 
 
 Quite suddenly the night stepped into the 
 shoes of day. Darkness arrived in a hurry, and 
 the stars pushed themselves out of the sky. The 
 camp was chosen, the first watch was set. The 
 horses, hobbled and with bells about their necks, 
 moved musically into the shadows, the little 
 company found the way to the cook's fire. There 
 was stew in the camp oven, and a ladle at hand. 
 A pile of tin dishes was on the ground. The 
 Johnnie-cake waited on a box, and the earth lay 
 spread for a table. There is many a worse roof 
 than the sky offers, and many a more restless 
 bed than a mattress of grasses. 
 
 Supper ended, and there came the hour when 
 pipes are pulled out. Power went out of the
 
 76 PELICAN POOL 
 
 firelight presently, and listened to the mob get- 
 ting to camp for the night. There was a little 
 bellowing from over there, and now and then 
 sounds of scurry, but nothing to cause unquiet. 
 He came back to O'Neill. "I'm going across to 
 Gregory's for a while," he said. "He was talk- 
 ing about a copper show of his. I'll be back for 
 my watch. I don't think you will have any 
 trouble. Good night." He thought O'Neill 
 looked up over-quickly. "I don't think you will 
 have any trouble," he repeated. "Would you 
 sooner I stayed? I will if you like." 
 
 "There's no need, boss," said the other in- 
 differently. "I didn't know you knew them over 
 there." The man began whistling. 
 
 "So long, then." 
 
 "So long, boss."
 
 CHAPTER V 
 THE HUT BY PELICAN POOL 
 
 POWER picked up his whip by way of com- 
 pany, and took the road to the camp. The 
 journey was done in ten minutes' time. The 
 moon had not risen, and he found the place in 
 darkness, and from somewhere at hand came the 
 sudden bark of the dog. The tents were empty, 
 but the hessian building a shabby affair 
 showed lamplight through half-a-dozen holes, 
 and sounds of movement came from inside. The 
 gouger called out roughly to the dog, but the 
 brute barked on at full voice, backing away into 
 the shadows. Power brought his whip-handle 
 down on the door-post. The doorway was 
 empty of a door, and he looked into a room lit by 
 a couple of lanterns. He had time to see a table 
 and seats, knocked together haphazard, and a 
 woman of middle life bending over a basin at the 
 farther end. Then the opening was filled by the 
 gouger, who peered out into the dark. 
 "Good evening," Power said. 
 "Same to you," said the gouger. And he 
 
 7
 
 78 PELICAN POOL 
 
 added with a wrinkling up of his eyes "I can't 
 see more than half way through a brick wall in 
 this durned light. Anything up?" 
 
 "I'm camping on the Pool to-night. You told 
 me to take a look at your show when I was 
 round. I've come along on the chance. Maybe 
 I've turned up at an off time. In that case it's 
 my own funeral, that's all. Couldn't get away 
 before." 
 
 "So that's the lay. You're right enough. I'll 
 fix you in a shake. It's five minutes through tlie 
 scrub. I can pick yer up a specimen or two 
 what's lying round about the shanty, if the 
 
 women have let 'em be. But, but" the 
 
 gouger began to lose his words and screw his 
 
 mouth up and finger his beard . "Strike 
 
 me," he said. "Strike me if I know you." 
 
 The woman had left her work, and now peered 
 over his shoulder. She nudged him. "Yes, yer 
 do, boss," she said in a heavy whisper. "It's Mr. 
 Power, of Kaloona him as brought yer back 
 last night." 
 
 "You aren't getting at me?" said he of the 
 beard in an aside. 
 
 "Aw!" 
 
 Then Gregory, the gouger, turned very 
 friendly. 
 
 "Mr. Power it is," he cried out, rolling the 
 upper half of his body, and showing his dirty
 
 79 
 
 teeth. "It's Mr. Power come for a look at the 
 show. My eyes haven't got the hang o' the dark 
 yet. Come inside, Mr. Power. I'm glad you 
 found the way here, square and all I am." 
 
 With something of a to-do the couple backed 
 from the doorway, and Power went into the 
 room. Two lamps, placed high up, gave the 
 light, which was poor and depressing, and round 
 about the globes beat frantically a great army of 
 insects. Power went into the room, and the 
 close air made him pause. He stopped to blink 
 his eyes at the light. A moment later he looked 
 up, and across the table, busy at some cups in a 
 basin, he saw the girl he had dreamed of half the 
 day. 
 
 The wonder of her beauty came over him 
 again with a feeling akin to pain. She was look- 
 ing him in the face with frank curiosity. He it 
 was who felt embarrassed and first turned away. 
 He laughed at his scruples next moment, and 
 returned her stare for stare. He looked her 
 over slowly to discover her secret. And he 
 succeeded ill. For her loveliness was anchored 
 to no this or that. She stood in the shabby 
 room, a jewel of such price as asked no setting. 
 Her beauty would never stale, having found the 
 secret of the dawn which arrives morning by 
 morning, ready and wonderful, though all else 
 is passing by in the turning of the years. The
 
 8o PELICAN POOL 
 
 men, who presently would come to kneel in 
 homage there, would wonder at this glorious 
 body no less the last hour than the first. 
 
 Her hair was brown and shining, and heaped 
 up about her head. Her eyes were of a dark 
 colour, of great size, and moment by moment 
 sleepy with dreams or bright with brief fires. 
 Her mouth was heavy with passion and gaoler 
 of a thousand quick moods ; her lips were bright, 
 and behind them little teeth gleamed white and 
 charming. Her dress was open at the neck, 
 where her firm throat swept to her bosom. Her 
 arms, bare to the elbows, had taken their brown 
 from the sun, but their shapeliness was a wonder 
 and delight. Her hands were slender and quick 
 as they moved in the water. What age was she ? 
 Twenty, it might be. 
 
 "Good evening, Mister," she said. 
 
 "Good evening," he answered. 
 
 Gregory and his wife were hovering at his 
 back. It was "Sit down, Mr. Power," and 
 "Make yerself at home, Mr. Power. I wish we 
 had a better seat for you, Mr. Power; but we 
 haven't been here above two week, and the boss 
 isn't for doing more graft than he need." 
 
 "It's that show, as I've told the old gel. It 
 tires a bloke out," said Gregory. The woman 
 answered him with a curl of the lip. 
 
 Power sat down on an up-ended box. He
 
 could put his elbow on the table, which had been 
 knocked together slap-dash with a few nails. 
 After further to-do Gregory sat at hand with a 
 pipe in his mouth. The women started again on 
 their business. In the pause in matters which 
 came on this sitting down Power felt the stale- 
 ness of the room. He had time to wonder why 
 he had come. He took a second look at Mrs. 
 Gregory. She showed the ruins of good looks 
 which the climate and hard living had 
 squandered. Her face was full of greed and 
 craft. The man at his side was a mixture of 
 rogue and fool. Power had given up a smoke 
 and a yarn in the cool for this. For he didn't 
 care the crack of a whip for the show. His line 
 was cattle, not copper. Then the girl had 
 brought him here. And to-morrow he was to 
 see the girl he loved. He was a fool for his 
 pains. 
 
 He was a fool for his pains, yet he would not 
 have been more content staying away. Some- 
 thing drew him here by roots deep down in him. 
 How her beauty moved him! Here stood a 
 savage child, with her longings crudely waiting 
 on her lips, possessed of a body which was holy. 
 Why was she here, growing up alone and un- 
 watched, to age before her time? It was the law 
 that painted the wings of the butterfly and 
 brought the cripple into the world; the law,
 
 82 PELICAN POOL 
 
 jumbled beyond man's following, that caused 
 suns to blaze and worlds to groan in labour that 
 meanest gnat might spin a giddy hour. 
 
 He must pull himself together. 
 
 "That was your mob on the road this after- 
 noon, I reckon?" the woman asked, looking up 
 of a sudden. 
 
 "Yes, we came from the Ten Mile." 
 
 "A handy lot," Gregory said, wagging his 
 head, and spitting with a pretty skill through the 
 doorway. 
 
 "Do you reckon to be long on the road with 
 them?" the woman asked once more. 
 
 "I'm travelling to Morning Springs. We 
 ought to be back inside the week." 
 
 The washing had come to an end. The girl 
 collected the clean crockery and grew busy at a 
 shelf. The woman threw the water outside the 
 door, and dried her hands on a rag. "You come 
 for a look at the boss's show?" she said as she 
 finished. 
 
 "Yes, I heard one or two speaking of it, and 
 thought I might come along." 
 
 "Do you do anything in the copper way?" 
 
 "I've an interest in a show or two. I don't go 
 much on it." 
 
 "The boss's show looks Al. One of the Sur- 
 prise men was down for a look round in the 
 morning."
 
 THE HUT BY PELICAN POOL 83 
 
 "Ah, who was that ?" 
 
 "Mr. Moll, what's his name?" 
 
 "Mr. King," said the girl. 
 
 "And what did King say about it?" 
 
 "He talked big enough," Gregory put in. "But 
 he seemed as interested in the gel there. He 
 said he might be along agen." 
 
 "Dad, yer tongue's too big for yer mouth." 
 
 "Well, he seemed uncommon shook on yer. I 
 reckon he thought yer show better than my 
 show. A-haw, haw, haw! A-haw, haw, he- 
 haw!" 
 
 "Mr. King is a pleasant-spoken gentleman," 
 Mrs. Gregory said. 
 
 "And," said Gregory, "I'd have thought him 
 pleasanter if he had come to a bargain." 
 
 The girl, Moll Gregory, came back from the 
 shelf. She put both hands upon the table, and 
 bent a little over it. Her great eyes looked into 
 Power's face. "Do you know Mr. King?" she 
 said. 
 
 "I often run across him." 
 
 "Wot is he like?" 
 
 "King's a good fellow." 
 
 "He says funny things." 
 
 "What did he say?" 
 
 "Oh, he looked at me, you know, like men 
 look when they're after a lark, and he says : 'I 
 came to look at copper and I found gold.' I
 
 84 PELICAN POOL 
 
 couldn't take up his meaning quite, but I guessed 
 he was trying to fool me." 
 
 The woman interrupted. "Maybe you're 
 thinking of making an offer for the show?" 
 
 "Don't rush him, old woman. Maybe I'll hang 
 on to it." 
 
 "No, yer won't. You'll sell out and clear from 
 the game. I want to see some life. I'm tired of 
 these dull holes, I am. You'll fool the thing up 
 and get took down, as you've been a dozen 
 times." 
 
 Something in this sentence put Gregory on a 
 new turn of thought, for he put his pipe on the 
 table, clawed his beard a moment, and got up. 
 "D'yer know anything of wire strainers?" He 
 began to hunt in a corner and brought out parts 
 of a clumsy machine, together with a tangle of 
 wire. The woman flew at him. 
 
 "If you'd give by that foolery and do a bit of 
 shovelling we might be better off. Who wants 
 a wire strainer where there isn't a fence for two 
 hundred mile ? You make me sick, yer do." 
 
 "Steady on, mother." Gregory fell into ex- 
 planation, and in time brought out a potato 
 digger of his invention, and illustrated that for- 
 tune was but a stay-away. Mrs. Gregory gave 
 over talk, and drew an ancient illustrated paper 
 from somewhere, and sat down to turn the 
 leaves. The girl employed herself with one
 
 THE HUT BY PELICAN POOL 85 
 
 thing and another, going in and out of the door- 
 way, and seeming intent on her business ; but 
 Power knew she watched him, and he himself 
 missed nothing she did. Her beauty was beyond 
 the telling. Whether she walked, whether she 
 sat, whether she stood a moment by the doorway 
 peering into the night, she was so wonderful 
 that nothing else was worth the looking. 
 
 What was happening to him to-night ! 
 
 At last Gregory was persuaded to put his in- 
 ventions back in their corner and light lanterns. 
 "You'd better come along, gel," he said. "We 
 may want you to hold a light." He and Moll 
 Gregory and Power set out, and Power came to 
 remember the journey as many pictures of one 
 girl who passed from light into shadow and from 
 shadow into light. She strode beside him with 
 the free walk of a goddess. They arrived at the 
 shaft, and she stood over the black mouth, hold- 
 ing a lantern to guide the downward clamber. 
 From his station at the bottom, Power saw her 
 bending overhead, with one hand on the wind- 
 lass for support, and the stars of the sky gathered 
 together for background. He looked here and 
 there at the broken earth as Gregory bade him, 
 and the dull green of the copper appeared in 
 abundance. It was dirty work and hot, with ever 
 a trickle of dirt down the back of the neck, and 
 he wished himself well up at the top again.
 
 86 PELICAN POOL 
 
 They had climbed up presently, and very soon 
 had made the road home. The close air of the 
 hut gave them ill greeting. Gregory put down 
 the lantern noisily on the table, blew a big 
 breath out of his mouth, and ran a finger round 
 the neck of his shirt. 
 
 "This weather's no good for climbing about 
 in," he said. 
 
 The woman looked up from her paper with a 
 keen face. "Wot did you think of the show, Mr. 
 Power?" 
 
 "I don't know much about that sort of thing, 
 Mrs. Gregory. It looks thundering good." 
 
 Gregory began to think. "There's specimens 
 about the place," he said, "but durn me if I know 
 where to come on them." 
 
 "You left two or three by the pool, Dad." 
 
 "Could you find 'em?" 
 
 "Maybe." 
 
 "Have a look then, gel," 
 
 "It doesn't matter," Power said. 
 
 "It will be no worry." Moll Gregory picked 
 up the lantern and was going out of the door. 
 Power crossed the room of a sudden. 
 
 "I'll come with you. It will save bringing 
 them back." 
 
 "Orl right, Mr. Power." 
 
 They went out into the dark. The moon 
 would rise in a few minutes; but now the night
 
 THE HUT BY PELICAN POOL 87 
 
 was dark and still and close. The sky was filled 
 with stars shining with the fierce heat of the 
 tropics. The Southern Cross lay against the 
 horizon ; but in the North, Orion was climbing 
 up, and the Scorpion curled his tail in the middle 
 of the sky. The dog shuffled from the shadows 
 after them, and very soon man and girl had 
 passed between the trees by the bank of the 
 waterhole. They were walking side by side, the 
 girl bearing the lantern, and it was as they came 
 upon the bank that Moll Gregory broke silence. 
 
 "It was round here," she said, pausing to take 
 bearing. "Dad left them one day when he 
 couldn't be bothered taking them home." 
 
 She put the lantern this way and that, and 
 they made careful search. But their trouble was 
 empty of profit. 
 
 "This is where they was," she said. "Maybe 
 Mr. King lifted them. There's been no one else 
 this way." 
 
 "It doesn't matter," Power answered. "The 
 show was good enough." 
 
 They were looking into the Pool, which the 
 gloom made mysterious and of great size. The 
 water was fretted with the images of stars. Bfg 
 moths came out of the dark to beat against the 
 lantern. Power spoke because it was impossible 
 to stand there without a reason. 
 
 "A grand place this."
 
 88 PELICAN POOL 
 
 "It isn't so bad. Bit slow after Mount 
 Milton." 
 
 "Do you want people?" 
 
 "I'm not particular; but a gel wants a bit of 
 life sometimes. It's terrible weary of a time 
 without a sight of anyone new. Sometimes I'm 
 fair spoiling for a bit of fun." 
 
 "What do you do with yourself? Do you 
 read?" 
 
 "I'm no great hand at learning. I got no 
 schoolin'." 
 
 "Never been to school?" 
 
 "No, we always lived out back where there 
 was none. I've not been christened neither. 
 Never saw a church for that matter. There was 
 a parson what came round our parts once with a 
 pack-'orse. I fair scared him out of his life when 
 I let on about it. He was for fixing me straight 
 then." 
 
 "Why didn't you let him?" 
 
 "Something happened. I forget." 
 
 There came a space of silence. She lifted her 
 great eyes. "Yes, I'm spoiling for a bit of life. 
 I'm sick of seeing nothing. I reckon maybe 
 you've moved about, Mister?" 
 
 "I travelled a bit." 
 
 "That Mr. King, he's been about a bit." 
 
 "Did he sav so?"
 
 THE HUT BY PELICAN POOL 89 
 
 "Yes, he said aw, it doesn't matter what he 
 said. It was something stupid." 
 
 "What was it?" 
 
 "Aw " 
 
 "Tell me." 
 
 "Aw, he only said as he'd been all over the 
 world, but hadn't met a gel to equal me. He 
 said all the silks and satins in the world would 
 never do me proper. He said as he'd be back 
 in a day or two. Do you reckon he'll come?" 
 
 It was Power who was put out of countenance. 
 He said after a moment "D'you want him to 
 come ?" 
 
 "I won't be worried if he do. He knows how 
 to talk a gel round." 
 
 The moon began to rise. As it left the horizon 
 it was as large as a cartwheel and as rich as 
 a copper platter. Its light began to find a way 
 into many places. The waters of the Pool grew 
 very fair. But nothing in that prospect was fair 
 as the girl at Power's side. 
 
 Who knows what thoughts just then came 
 knocking at the doors of his brain? Truth to 
 tell he fell to frowning and nursing his lower lip. 
 The girl was impatient before he came out of his 
 brown study. 
 
 "I have to get back," he said. "The moon is 
 up. I am taking next watch." 
 
 "Mick O'Neill is with you, isn't he?" 
 
 G
 
 90 PELICAN POOL 
 
 "He is in charge now. I relieve him. D'you 
 know him?" 
 
 "He's often this way." 
 
 They were on the way back to the hut. "Is 
 he interested in copper, too?" 
 
 The girl looked up in a puzzled way. 
 
 "Well, copper or no copper," Power said of a 
 sudden, "you've a straight man there. I don't 
 know any better one. That's about it." 
 
 He fell into thought again, walking at no 
 great pace with eyes upon the ground. His pre- 
 occupation brought a pout to the girl's lips. She 
 said: "You're to be a week on the road, aren't 
 you ?" 
 
 "That's about it." 
 
 "Will you be seeing us agen?" 
 
 "Would you like me to?" 
 
 "I reckon dad likes a yarn of a night." 
 
 "And what about yourself?" 
 
 "Aw, yes." Saying this she looked up and 
 laughed. 
 
 "Listen, girl, here's the camp. Stand still. 
 King told you he had never met a girl to equal 
 you. I can tell you more than that. I can tell 
 you that no queen with her crown on her head 
 and her throne underneath her ever held the 
 power you hold. You can make the wise man 
 foolish, and fill the fool with learning. You can 
 take the clean man to the mire, and cause the
 
 THE HUT BY PELICAN POOL 91 
 
 dirty man to wash his hands. Ah, girl ! don't 
 listen." 
 
 "Aw, get out," she said. 
 
 "Back agen." Gregory called out, pushing 
 his bunch of dirty beard out at the door. "Did 
 you tumble on them?' 
 
 "No luck," Power said. "It's no matter. There 
 isn't any doubt about the show. I'm back to say 
 good night. I've my watch to stand over there." 
 
 "Won't you have a cup of tea," said the 
 woman, coming to the door. 
 
 "Not this time ; I can't wait. I'm sorry." 
 
 "Ye'll be back sometime ?" 
 
 "Yes, I'll look you up in a few days. Maybe 
 you'll have opened up the show a bit by then. 
 Well, good night." 
 
 "Good night, Mr. Power." 
 
 "Good night, Mr. Power." 
 
 "So long, Mister."
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 THE COACH COMES TO SURPRISE 
 
 NEXT day Power kept his promise, and 
 rode into Surprise as soon as he could. He 
 let go the horse in a yard, and tramped the 
 stony stretch which lies before the house. Out- 
 side the accountant's office he came across Mr. 
 Neville and Maud. He heard Maud's cry, "Well 
 done, Jim," and the old man waved a stick in the 
 act of pouncing on a passer by. Maud came up 
 in great glee. 
 
 "How quick you've been. I was not expecting 
 you till sunset." 
 
 "I've had good luck. They're a strong lot. 
 Mick O'Neill is taking them to the hollow. You 
 must ride out with me to-night for a look at 
 them." 
 
 "But I can't, Jim. And I'd love to. These 
 wretched people come to-day. Don't you 
 remember? I can't leave them to father the first 
 night." 
 
 "I forgot them. Hang it! that settles it, I 
 suppose." 
 
 92
 
 THE COACH COMES TO SURPRISE 93 
 
 "We're on the way to meet the coach now. 
 Come along. You have nothing else to do, have 
 you?'' 
 
 "I'll come, of course. You ought to pull that 
 hat down, girl. Your face is getting burnt to 
 bits." 
 
 "You said you liked me brown." 
 
 Old Neville was hard engaged with the passer 
 by. The two people heard his harangue, and 
 saw him blowing cigar smoke in a hurry. Soon 
 he drove the enemy through the office door, 
 pursuing him hard in retreat. At once Maud 
 went close to Power. 
 
 "Jim," she said, "I've been so nice to father all 
 day. He is splendid just now. As soon as you 
 get him alone, ask him about our marriage. 
 He'll be reasonable this time, I know. I'll find 
 you a chance. Why, Jim, what's the matter 
 to-day?" 
 
 "Matter with me?" 
 
 "Yes, you're down on your luck, aren't you?" 
 
 "You are always thinking something, Maud." 
 
 The thread of talk was broken, and they 
 wandered into the office with nothing to say. It 
 was built of iron sheets, held together with 
 wooden beams. Frequent ledgers and other 
 dreary volumes took their rest upon the tables, 
 and files of ageing papers dangled by strings 
 along the walls. The dust of spent willy-willys
 
 94 PELICAN POOL 
 
 had found the upper shelves, and many an in- 
 dustrious fly had left a lifetime's labour on ceil- 
 ing and woodwork. The corpulent cockroach 
 walked here after the heat of the day, and the 
 spider spread his net in the'loftier corners. For 
 at Surprise a happy line is drawn between the 
 must-be and the need-not, and the word "broom" 
 is not used among the best people. 
 
 The place was full of a sickly heat, but the day 
 was Saturday, and King only had stayed behind. 
 They found him writing at the lower end. Half- 
 way down Neville had secured his victim 
 between a table and a chair. The person in this 
 unhappy case was an elderly man of a very 
 broken appearance. He might have been a 
 gentleman a long time ago. His hair was grey, 
 but a moustache of any colour you please 
 drooped over his mouth. His eyes were pale 
 blue, with a blink, and his chin grew a day-old 
 stubble of beard. He wore round his neck a 
 collar of many washings and a doubtful ironing, 
 and a tie in a limp old age. He wore no coat, 
 which is the summer fashion; his trousers 
 were of khaki stuff and wrinkled meekly at his 
 boots. The toes of his boots leaned up in 
 search of something kinder than the stones. On 
 the little finger of his left hand showed the signet 
 ring of the house of Horrington, of Such-and- 
 such Hall, England.
 
 THE COACH COMES TO SURPRISE 95 
 
 Prosperity and Mr. Horrington were coldly 
 acquainted. Horrington was an idealist among 
 men. Some pass their days mapping out new 
 continents, others knit their brows over the 
 printing press and the steam engine. Horring- 
 ton had resolved on reading the riddle of how to 
 build a fortune within call of a hotel and without 
 hard work. He had met with poor success. He 
 had eschewed hard work, and he had lived within 
 reach of a hotel ; but prosperity had shrugged 
 shoulders at him. Devotion to an idea had lost 
 him the affection of his cousin, Sir John ; had 
 found him a passage to Australia; had drifted 
 him presently from town to bush. Unable to 
 contend singly with ill-fortune, he had married a 
 faded woman, who took him and his burdens, no 
 one knew why. Mrs. Horrington painted a little, 
 sang a little, worked her needle a little, played 
 the piano a little and these arts she taught the 
 daughters of those parents who are not exacting 
 if terms be cheap. So Horrington had kept con- 
 stant to his idea. But the lean times had 
 brought the pair to an alien land. For at Sur- 
 prise they paint only when a new coat is due to 
 the poppet-legs, and only ply the needle should 
 a wall need repair. At Surprise the mouth-organ 
 and the concertina soothe the ache for higher 
 things. 
 
 The old man came to an end of his breath.
 
 96 PELICAN POOL 
 
 "Sir," Mr. Horrington began with a certain 
 dignity. "You will own I have heard you with 
 patience." 
 
 "Eh?" the old man grunted. 
 
 "And I repeat I have every right to complain 
 on finding myself put on a beggarly allowance 
 of water at a moment's notice." 
 
 "We may be doing a perish before the rains 
 come." 
 
 "Why, Good Lord! sir, what's a kerosene tin 
 of water to a family? My wife is not a strong 
 woman, and like all women in poor health, she'V 
 ready to blame others for her shortcomings. 
 She has it at the back of her mind that I make a 
 difficulty carrying the water; though, Good 
 Lord ! I've scraped my shins often enough on the 
 tins. When I turned up with a single bucket 
 this morning, and the goat had to go short, she 
 put the blame at once on me. She wouldn't listen 
 until she saw for herself the tanks were locked. 
 Then home she went to throw herself on the 
 bed. 'Never enough wood chopped to light a 
 fire, now no water to wash with, not a soul to 
 speak to, never anything to look at' that's what 
 I listened to until I left the place." 
 
 "Where did ye goto?" 
 
 "I had an appointment." 
 
 "Near the hotel, I reckon."
 
 97 
 
 "Your joke, sir, could be in better taste. I had 
 business with one of the shift bosses." 
 
 "At the hotel?" 
 
 "We did happen to meet at the hotel." 
 
 "He, he!" 
 
 > "Because I have been unfortunate, sir, I think 
 there is no need for rudeness. In a politer 
 country, where I have ridden my twice or three 
 times weekly to my cousin's hounds, I " 
 
 The old man broke up the audience with a 
 
 flourish of his stick. 
 
 
 
 King left his work when Maud and Power 
 arrived. "Oh, Jim, I've just remembered." 
 M\ud called out. "Mr. King was down at the 
 river yesterday, and saw the pretty girl. You 
 know whom I mean ? Mr. King hasn't been the 
 same since. None of his balances came right 
 this morning. He said she was the loveliest 
 thing he had ever seen. Didn't you, Mr. King?" 
 
 "I expect so." 
 
 "Jim, you must see her, just to tell me it's true 
 what they say. Would you think her the 
 loveliest thing in the world?" 
 
 "I don't know." 
 
 "Don't look so glum over it. Will you go and 
 see her?" 
 
 "I have seen her." 
 
 "You? When?" 
 
 "On the way home when I left you last time."
 
 98 PELICAN POOL 
 
 "Why didn't you tell me?" 
 
 "I didn't think of it." 
 
 "You stupid! And what was she like?" 
 
 "Like? Oh, she was very pretty." 
 
 "Is that all you can say? Tell me about her. 
 What was she doing?" 
 
 "Doing? I don't know what she was doing. 
 She had a lantern in her hand." 
 
 "You want shaking, Jim! Mr. King told me 
 much more. Didn't you look at her? Mr. King 
 said a hundred shadows were at hide-and-seek 
 in her hair, and when he came to talk about her 
 eyes, he sat down the words in his mouth 
 stopped his tongue moving." 
 
 "Perhaps that is why Power says nothing 
 now," King said. 
 
 "I hope not," Maud cried quickly. And she 
 fell to teasing. "No, poor old Jim was thinking 
 of his bullocks when he saw her." 
 
 "What should I have thought about, the cattle 
 or Moll Gregory?" 
 
 "Neither. You should have been thinking of 
 me. I see you know her name." 
 
 "Yes, I've learned that." 
 
 King shut up the ledger with a bang. "That's 
 enough for Saturday. What's next? A smoke, 
 a drink or the coach ? I vote a drink." 
 
 "I vote the coach," Maud cried.
 
 THE COACH COMES TO SURPRISE 99 
 
 "Here's a cigarette," said Power. "You must 
 find it hot here of an afternoon." 
 
 "I do. The sun gets round on to the wall, and 
 I feel as charitable as a woman with an empty 
 woodbox." 
 
 "You ought to give up this uncomfortable 
 bachelor life, Mr. King," said Maud. "You 
 ought to go down South and marry some nice 
 girl." 
 
 "Alas ! my purse is not as full as once it was. 
 A fool and his money are soon parted, they say. 
 I should have to marry a girl with money, and 
 a girl and her money are equally soon married 
 by someone else." 
 
 Neville came up behind. "How ye do chatter. 
 Maud. We'd better get along to that coach. 
 Who's coming? King, ye had better come 
 along." He jerked his head over his shoulder. 
 "Hey, Horrington, ye can tell your wife she can 
 have what water sfie wants and I'll be by to see 
 you carry it." Marching four abreast, they 
 passed out of the office. 
 
 Surprise is not a beautiful place. The hills 
 holding it are the greenest in that country, and 
 lean up and down in gentle curves. But the 
 bottom of the basin has grown shabby with 
 much use. Patches of sand cover it, in company 
 with clumps of spinifex put out of repair by dis- 
 illusioned goats. The tents and humpies of the
 
 TOO PELICAN POOL 
 
 camp rise up on this in seedy and unordered 
 rank, and low-born fowls doze at the doorways. 
 In the middle of the congregation stands one 
 building somewhat more gracious. A glitter- 
 ing roof protects it, and there is paint upon the 
 walls. Above the doorway runs the legend- 
 Surprise Valley Hotel. 
 
 On Saturday afternoon they keep holiday at 
 Surprise. It is then the butcher kills for the 
 second time in the week, and Mrs. Bloxham, 
 Mrs. Johnson and Mrs. Niven meet at his lean-to 
 for Sunday's dinner and a half-hour gossip. 
 They find talk until the coach arrives. About 
 the same time, Bloxham, Johnson and Niven put 
 an eye to their premises, pulling together a hole 
 in the wall here, a slit in the roof there. They, 
 in due course, turn steps to the hotel for the 
 coming of the coach. At four o'clock, about 
 that place, you find all the best people of Sur- 
 prise. 
 
 The party from the office took the direction of 
 the hotel. Old Neville with a great play of his 
 stick held the lead. He kept the talk his way. 
 Said he: "I can't make out what this fellow is 
 coming for. Bringing his wife, too. She'd as 
 well been left behind. He wrote something 
 about coming for a holiday, being in poor health 
 or something. It beats me what he thinks to 
 find here. He'll be leavin' by the first coach, I
 
 reckon. I shan't mind. I've too much on hand 
 to be trotting round with beef tea. Maud will 
 have to see to them." 
 
 "Selwyn is the name, isn't it?" Power said. 
 
 The old man nodded his head. "Huh, huh! 
 There was an assayer of that name here once 
 three or four year back. There was no houses 
 then; didn't scarce run a tent, and he and me and 
 a couple of other fellows was camped where the 
 stable is. He had some damned silver thing 
 something like a flute, and one night a feller out 
 of pity asked him to play it. It was the 
 horriblest row ever you heard. The chap that 
 asked him made some excuse and went so far 
 away he nearly got bushed. He went on playing 
 till near midnight, I reckon. When we were all 
 asleep the damned row woke us up again. 
 I sits up and lets fly in a great rage : 'For God's 
 sake, man,' I said, 'a fair thing is a fair thing. 
 We've listened to you half the damned night 
 already. D'ye think,' says I and then I see all 
 of a sudden it was the dingoes howling. He, he ! 
 Huh, huh, huh !" 
 
 "Father, you put a bit to that story every 
 time." 
 
 "And it's not everyone knows how to do that, 
 my girl." 
 
 "Hullo, here's a new place," Power said. 
 "You've grown it since last week."
 
 102 PELICAN POOL 
 
 "Smith, the schoolmaster," answered the old 
 man with a jerk of the head. "He's doing his 
 week here. I mean to catch him home if I can. 
 I'm the man for a gentleman that lets his horse 
 into my feed-room." 
 
 "Let him alone, father. He is hunted enough 
 without you. You must have seen him, Jim. 
 He's the man that looks as though something is 
 just about to happen. He's married to a book 
 and never gets past the first chapter. We ought 
 to be sorry for him. He's meant for a town. I 
 don't know what brought him here. Let's be 
 romantic. Perhaps he loved some girl and lost 
 her." 
 
 "In that case," King said, "I'll keep my 
 sympathy. There are enough mourners for the 
 man who has loved some woman and lost her. 
 My heart goes out to the man who has loved 
 some woman and can't lose her." 
 
 "Huh, huh!" cried the old man from the lead. 
 "Ye needn't pity him, Maud. He has some 
 woman to follow him round." 
 
 They had come to a couple of tents standing 
 solitary. Neville rattled in the doorway of the 
 first with his stick. "Hey, there, who's home?" 
 The tent door was open for the world to look in- 
 side. At a table, consisting of a large board 
 placed on a couple of travelling bags, Mr. Smith 
 sat writing. An armful of books was at his
 
 THE COACH COMES TO SURPRISE 103 
 
 elbow, and a litter of papers had tumbled round 
 his heels. He was a man of fair complexion, 
 going early bald on top. He sighed with great 
 melancholy when the knock came, and put a 
 hand to his forehead. On top of this he conjured 
 up a mechanical smile and rose to his feet. 
 
 "You, Mr. Neville? Turned hot, hasn't it? 
 Can I do anything?" 
 
 "I suppose ye know your horse had its head 
 into my chaff half the morning? The last ton 
 ran me up eighteen shilling a bag." 
 
 Mr. Smith shut his eyes. "I've driven it over 
 the other way twice this afternoon," he said. "I 
 sat down five minutes ago." 
 
 "I'm talking of the morning." 
 
 "I was at school then." 
 
 "That don't put my chaff in the bag." 
 
 Maud came to the front. "That's enough, 
 father. I hope the horse had a good dinner. It 
 does the Company good to give away a little 
 chaff. How is the book getting on?" 
 
 Mr. Smith shook his head. "According to the 
 time-table the third chapter would have been 
 finished this week, but everything is turning out 
 against it. I am afraid this life isn't conducive 
 to study, and my unfortunate poverty precludes 
 me from obtaining the necessary reference 
 books. Directly I sit down, there's the dog to
 
 J04 PELICAN POOL 
 
 put out, or the cat to put in, and, honestly, as 
 my name is Pericles Smith " 
 
 "Perry!" a woman's voice called from some- 
 where, "there's a wretched goat at the flour." 
 
 "Instantly, darling." Mr. Smith closed his 
 eyes. "I live in the hope of getting an hour to 
 myself one day; but for ten years 
 
 "Perry, there's another goat joining it." 
 
 "At once, dear. I suppose I shall write the 
 words 'Chapter Four' some day, but 
 
 "Well, I'm not going to stay here while you 
 chatter any longer," interrupted the old man, 
 moving off, "and you, Smith, you look after that 
 horse of yours or ye'll find yourself reading a 
 pretty long bill." 
 
 They came away with Smith still in the door- 
 way. 
 
 "I wish he wouldn't make me laugh. I am so 
 sorry for him," said Maud. 
 
 King made answer. "It's not the best of lives 
 this, packing up for somewhere at the end of 
 every week, knowing the sun will be at the back 
 of your neck all day, and a dozen wild children 
 wait at the journey-end for the ABC to be 
 knocked into their heads. I am content to stay 
 plain John King." 
 
 "A man can say he has put a good day's work 
 behind him," Power said, "and that's as well. It 
 helps to pull his thoughts straight at night."
 
 THE COACH COMES TO SURPRISE 105 
 
 "Jim, you are taking life so heavily to-day. I 
 had to cheer up Mr. King this morning because 
 he looked too long at the pretty girl. Now you 
 have caught the blues somewhere." 
 
 The butcher's shop stands on this side of the 
 hotel, and on Tuesday and Saturday the butcher 
 stands behind his block, and chops your fate up 
 with the meat. Mrs. Niven, Mrs. Boulder and 
 Mrs. Bullock grow very humble when they go 
 a-shopping. It is "Mr. Simpson, and how's the 
 heat been using yer, and is there any chance of 
 a bit o' the silverside this time?" And "Mr. 
 Simpson, and I suppose the flies is worrying yer 
 a treat, and I take it it's my turn for the under- 
 cut." And Simpson, with a to-do of knife and 
 steel makes answer. "Now, I'm givin' wot there 
 is, and I'm not givin' nothing else, and if yer 
 aren't satisfied, yer can go elsewhere. I reckon 
 the next butcher isn't farther than Mount 
 Milton, and I reckon Mount Milton isn't more 
 than seventy mile." 
 
 "Aw, you are gettin' at us, Mr. Simpson," 
 comes the timid chorus. 
 
 The bakery stands between the butcher's and 
 the hotel, presenting itself to the world as a 
 building of wood and bagging of a very cut- 
 throat appearance. Mr. Regan, baker, being a 
 man of parts, turns a pleasant sovereign or two 
 in the little "Crown and Anchor" saloon at the
 
 to6 PELICAN POOL 
 
 back. A couple of nights a week the policeman 
 looks in to run the bank for an hour or so. It's 
 "Now don't stand feeling yer corns there as 
 though yer ole woman was watching. Choose 
 yer crown, and pick yer anchor. The dice aren't 
 loaded more than my old grandad's gun was, and 
 I never see him try to blow to bits anything 
 stronger than his nose. Come on, gents, every 
 throw a crown, and every chuck an anchor. An' 
 don't forget time's flying, as the monkey said 
 when he 'eaved the clock through the winder." 
 
 They took their stand under the hotel veran- 
 dah. In twos and threes Surprise strolled to the 
 meeting ground. Neville waved his stick a 
 dozen times and grunted a how-de-do and 
 shouted. Mr. Horrington appeared presently, 
 and later disappeared ; and others of note swelled 
 the congregation. In a doorway loitered Bar- 
 coo Bill, as graceful a hand at duffing a horse as 
 you might find this side of the border. Into stout 
 argument had fallen one-eyed Sal, who, armed 
 with a crowbar, and fortified with a bottle of 
 Dewar's best, had once upon a time defeated the 
 only policeman in a single round go-as-you- 
 please affair. In a patch of shade kicked his heels 
 Iron-jawed Dick, who, for the price of a drink, 
 had lifted in his teeth a table laid for dinner. 
 Other people tall and short, lean and stout 
 took their stand up and down the way, and kept
 
 THE COACH COMES TO SURPRISE 107 
 
 ever the tail of an eye on the horizon. Dusty 
 curs mooched about, and sat down suddenly to 
 beat their stomachs with a back leg. At half the 
 posts were hitched high-rumped horses with 
 rusty saddles a-top of them. 
 
 The walk in the sun had left King a good deal 
 the worse for wear. He pulled forth a hand- 
 kerchief and pushed it about his face. "If," said 
 he, making an end, "things are ordered properly 
 in the world to come, we shall have a special 
 heaven to ourselves. There the sun will totter 
 through the sky in a mild old age, the rivers will 
 run water, the goats will come home to be 
 milked, and the woodbox will never empty. And 
 an angel will wait at the gates holding out a fly- 
 paper in place of a flaming sword." 
 
 "Hey?" cried the old man in a sudden excite- 
 ment. He was beating his stick at the distance. 
 
 The five goose-rumped horses, in a lather of 
 sweat, and chastened with a great following of 
 flies and dust clouds, had lumbered the coach to 
 the top of the last rise, and the first tents of Sur- 
 prise, and the poppet heads of the mine were 
 marching into view, as Mrs. Selwyn stated for 
 the third time on the journey that she did not 
 know whether she was on her crown or her toes. 
 From the box seat, Joe Gantley, mailman, 
 steered his team with bored fingers, jerking his
 
 io8 PELICAN POOL 
 
 head to the right now and then to clear his 
 throat, and spitting the flies from his lips on 
 occasion in an every-day sort of way. Selwyn 
 and Mrs. Sehvyn were packed beside him, where 
 the sun leaned down, the dust climbed up, and 
 there was perpetual prospect of heaving flanks 
 and clicking hoofs. 
 
 Mrs. Selwyn had come to the struggle in a 
 dust coat and a veil of many folds ; and in face of 
 a hundred difficulties that massive woman had 
 lost no jot of dignity, remaining to the end a 
 most inspiring spectacle. 
 
 Selwyn had made the best of a bad place at 
 the end of the row. By a judicious play of elbow 
 and hip he had widened his share of matters, 
 and now could lean a little easier and find a bit 
 of support for the hollow of his back. He had 
 grown shabby from the funnel of dust rising 
 from the top of the wheel, but he was not a man 
 to be put about by small matters, as he was 
 always very ready to let you know. 
 
 Hilton Selwyn, a director of the Surprise 
 Copper Mining Company, and gentleman of no 
 other special business, was at this time between 
 fifty and fifty-five, but lean and active in spite of 
 middle age. Cleancut in feature, upright in 
 carriage, he suggested the military man, and his 
 youthful step would have passed him as any age. 
 It was only on discovery of the thinned grey
 
 THE COACH COMES TO SURPRISE 109 
 
 hair and close-clipped tobacco-stained moustache 
 that one understood half a century had gone 
 over his head. 
 
 Half a century had gone over his head and 
 health had become treacherous. He could crawl 
 through a swamp at dawn on the chance of an 
 odd teal, and come home to a thumping break- 
 fast; but two minutes weeding in the garden 
 brought on sciatica. Similarly he could stand all 
 day in a drizzle of rain persuading a trout to rise, 
 and more than one biting July breakfast-time 
 had found him half naked worming a way across 
 the lawn of his country place to a flock of pigeon 
 feeding in the timber; but indoors his only seat 
 was right over the fire, where he took the 
 warmth from everybody as Mrs. Selwyn was 
 often good enough to tell him. 
 
 It was to get himself into better fettle that he 
 sought the present change of scene. He woke 
 up one evening of last winter from his after- 
 dinner sleep in the best arm-chair. The waking 
 up was a delicate matter. He gave two long 
 drawn-out yawns. He shot a fist into the air and 
 stretched slowly, rolled himself into a sitting 
 position, blinked once or twice, screwed up his 
 face as though he had a bad taste in the mouth, 
 caught hold of the mantelpiece and pulled him- 
 self on to his legs. He rocked about a little, 
 screwed up his face again, and at last quite woke
 
 1 10 PELICAN POOL 
 
 up. His hair was like a storm at sea, his tie was 
 crooked, his dress clothes were creased. 
 
 In the manner of a man announcing news of 
 deep interest he spoke : 
 
 "I feel a little better now. I think I deserve 
 a cigarette." He felt in his pockets for his 
 cigarette case. He looked on the floor, in the 
 fender, and under the cushions of the arm-chair. 
 "Dear me! Where's my cigarette case?" 
 
 "You don't think I have it, do you?" Mrs. 
 Selwyn asked coldly. She had been playing 
 hostess to a couple of friends while the host 
 slept. 
 
 "I don't know where it is; it's not here, any- 
 how." A terrific frown came over his face. 
 "This accursed habit of tidying is making the 
 house impossible to live in. One puts a thing 
 down, and the next minute some interfering 
 meddler picks it up and hides it, and then forgets 
 where they put it. Curse everybody!" 
 
 Mrs. Selwyn grew very stiff. "Is this language 
 meant for me? I shall not submit another 
 moment to it. I am very pleased your cigarette 
 case is lost. I hope it has gone for good. You 
 are a perfect plague with your things. It is very 
 good of anyone to touch them at all. In future 
 they can lie where they drop as far as I am con- 
 cerned." 
 
 "I hope everyone else will be equally kind.
 
 THE COACH COMES TO SURPRISE in 
 
 There may be a chance of finding things then. 
 Life's not worth living as it is, with a troop of 
 women following one about picking up every 
 little thing one puts down and then losing it." 
 
 Selwyn shouted at the top of his voice. 
 "Jane !" The parlourmaid came in. His smile 
 was charming. "I've lost my cigarettes, Jane. 
 They are nowhere to be found." 
 
 "The case is on the mantelpiece, sir, in the 
 library, where you left it this afternoon." 
 
 "Ah !" Selwyn saved an awkward situation by 
 finding a pipe and cleaning it. Mrs. Selwyn 
 watched him keenly. He cried out suddenly. 
 
 "You women amuse me. You live in an agony 
 of unrest in case a bit of ash gets on a chair or 
 rug, and shorten your lives with the excitement 
 of finding a fishing-bag with a few fish in it on 
 a drawing-room sofa instead of in the kitchen. 
 There never was a woman yet with a true idea 
 of comfort. Hullo! chocolates here. They don't 
 look bad at all." He proved his words by 
 diving into the box and bringing out a handful, 
 which he munched with obvious satisfaction. 
 
 "I believe in a man liking sweets. It shows 
 he doesn't drink." He munched on a moment or 
 two. Then he smiled with the charm that 
 deceived guests into believing him a solicitous 
 host. "Now who is going to play or sing? I am 
 sure none of you are entertaining Harry as I
 
 ii2 PELICAN POOL 
 
 should have done had health allowed. By the 
 way though, I did hear some music. I think I 
 must have been asleep. It was that sherry we 
 had at dinner. It's a fatal thing to wet one's 
 whistle with. A glass or two of sherry followed 
 by the genial blaze of a good fire on the pit of 
 the stomach, and the case is hopeless. I expect 
 these chocolates will play up with my hollow 
 tooth. It's a sad thing to arrive at my time of 
 life and begin to feel oneself giving way every- 
 where. I can't get about as I used to. A hard 
 day's shooting knocks me up." He shook his 
 head in deeply sympathetic manner. 
 
 "Haven't you done enough talking about 
 yourself?" 
 
 "I'm talking because I'm the only one here 
 with any ideas of conversation. You are all sit- 
 ting like a crowd at a wake before the whisky is 
 passed round." 
 
 "You give everybody a racking headache." 
 
 "I'm very sorry. I don't know why, but there 
 it is, I never get headaches." 
 
 "Nothing would ever kill you." 
 
 "You needn't be so annoyed about it. As a 
 matter of fact I've not been at all well these last 
 few months ; only, unlike other people, I make no 
 fuss about it. I've a thundering good mind to 
 see a doctor to-morrow. I jolly well will." 
 
 Great matters followed on that little upset.
 
 THE COACH COMES TO SURPRISE 113 
 
 The rocky state of his health came as a thunder- 
 bolt to Selwyn. His medical man said an entire 
 change of scene and climate was absolutely need- 
 ful. What better place than Surprise where 
 every worry could be put behind? With a 
 fishing-rod and a gun-case in the baggage a man 
 should be good for a six-month's stay. Mrs. 
 Selwyn began with a stout refusal. She knew 
 as well as she was alive the affair would end 
 disastrously. She had a presentiment some 
 calamity was waiting. She could foresee with 
 her capable brain how unfitted Hilton was for 
 the whole business. Her heart was in her mouth 
 at the mere thought of the journey. And look 
 at the expense. "Think of my purse !" she cried. 
 "Think of my pocket!" Finally she fell into 
 agreement, so as to be at hand to say "I told 
 you so." 
 
 Thus it came about that a fiery November 
 afternoon found the Selwyns covering the last 
 mile of the journey. The back of the coach was 
 a-choke with wares. The mail bags shared the 
 bottom with the Selwyn luggage, and a round 
 dozen of other parcels held the hopes of as many 
 women at Surprise. Mrs. Niven, Mrs. Bloxham, 
 Mrs. Anybody-else-you-please, lured by a cata- 
 logue, had summoned them in a halting hand 
 weeks before, and had spent spare time count- 
 ing up the days to their coining. On top of this
 
 ii4 PELICAN POOL 
 
 bundle of wares, in no ways a bed of their 
 choosing, were chained Selwyn's proved body- 
 guard, the sharers of his board, almost the 
 sharers of his bed. They were a mangy pointer 
 of great age, and a terrier with a punishing jaw. 
 The pointer had fallen into a miserable doze; 
 but the terrier yet nursed hope of sudden 
 calamity, and kept a quarrelsome eye at half- 
 cock. 
 
 With a crack of the whip, a spurt from the 
 goose-rumped horses, and a stir among the wait- 
 ing congregation, the coach rolled to a standstill 
 before Surprise Valley Hotel. Such was the 
 manner of the Selywn coming. 
 
 That evening it wanted half-an-hour to the 
 rise of the moon when Power left Neville's 
 verandah for his horse and the journey home. 
 The lights were going out over all the camp. 
 Maud followed at his side for a good-bye. The 
 old man fussed after them as far as the back 
 door. 
 
 "Don't chatter too long, gel. I won't be left 
 with them people, d'ye hear? I may be wrong, 
 but I think it won't take me time to be sick o' 
 the pair of them. I may be wrong, huh, huh! 
 Goodness ! Look at the lid off the dustbin again. 
 That woman don't do a thing she's told. Look 
 at it ! Some people breeds flies for a fancy.
 
 THE COACH COMES TO SURPRISE 115 
 
 Hope ye have a good trip, Power. See you again 
 in a week." 
 
 The hill begins at the very backdoor of the 
 house, and lifts a wide breast of broken red rock 
 into the cooler spaces. There are many seats 
 about the top, and all breezes go that way. The 
 poet, the refugee and the sighing swain thither 
 may turn steps to find easement of their state. 
 But few visit the hilltop, for the poet has no 
 place on the books of the Surprise Mining Com- 
 pany, and the refugee need not take such a 
 lengthy journey, while love ever keeps its hiding- 
 places ready at hand. 
 
 The old man turned into the house, and Maud 
 Neville put her hands on Power's shoulders. "A 
 few minutes don't matter, Jim. This is our first 
 time to-day. We'll go up the hill a moment." 
 
 They went up there, and sat down upon the 
 warm, red rock. The camp was a few points of 
 light in the dark ; but many white stars filled the 
 sky in old places the Cross to the South, the 
 Belt to the North, the Scorpion where you must 
 crane the neck to find it. In such a dark lovers 
 must sit closely if they would not be lost. 
 
 "Jim, to-day has been a failure, hasn't it?" 
 
 "I didn't mean it to be." 
 
 "You have had the blues all day, and those 
 wretched people came before I could cure you." 
 
 "I shall be back in a week, Maud."
 
 ii6 PELICAN POOL 
 
 "I had worked father so hard, and all for 
 nothing. I know it was not your fault. There 
 wasn't one chance." 
 
 "I'll have a pipe now we have sat down." 
 
 "See the stars marching into their old places. 
 What a lot they see. Do you think they look 
 right into us?" 
 
 "Let us hope not." 
 
 "Do you love me, Jim ?" 
 
 "Must I say it again?" 
 
 "As much as you say you do?" 
 
 "I forget how much I said." 
 
 "Because sometimes . . . well . . . sometimes." 
 
 "What happens sometimes?" 
 
 "Ah, Jim, is there always to be a 'sometimes?' 
 Why do I have always the little stab at my 
 heart? Is the whisperer true who says I do 
 most of the loving?" 
 
 She heard no answer. 
 
 "Sometimes I am afraid of what waits for us. 
 And always I love you very, very much. No, no, 
 I am not afraid. I am now the wise woman. 
 Along the road my heart has come I have found 
 the thorny places, but I am learning to tread 
 them with a shrug of pain and to march on 
 where the way opens out. There are aloes in 
 the sweet cake of love ; but let us eat, for the 
 spices will forget the aloes. The cook cooks 
 well, but he has not all the ingredients to his
 
 THE COACH COMES TO SURPRISE 117 
 
 hand, and they go hungry who demand only the 
 stars for food." Her arms found his shoulders. 
 Her kisses found his lips. 
 
 "What an eloquent little tongue you have, 
 girl ! How can I find the words to answer you ?" 
 
 "Don't talk a minute." But she herself spoke 
 again in a little while. 
 
 "Time goes by." 
 
 "It does." 
 
 "Two years ago we were strangers. We got 
 along without each other. How funny that ! 
 What did you find in me to want me? Jim, 
 aren't you ever going to answer to-night ?" 
 
 There was no answer. 
 
 "Friend Jim, do cheer up." 
 
 "I'm cheered up. Things are wrong to-day. 
 I don't know why. These things happen some- 
 times. My fault, no doubt. The bush is a good 
 enough place, girl, but it doesn't do to start 
 thinking there." 
 
 He put silence to flight by getting to his feet. 
 "I must stand watch by midnight. A week will 
 bring me back again. We'll say good night 
 here. Good night." 
 
 "Good night, Jim. Seven days are flying 
 towards me on damaged wings." 
 
 "Good night again, girl. Let your blessings 
 follow me while I am away."
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 THE RETURN TO SURPRISE 
 
 THE week was beggared, and had borrowed 
 two days from the next, when Power came 
 riding back to Surprise. He had left the 
 musterers and the cook's waggon after breakfast 
 to find their own way home, and a steady walk 
 all day across the plain brought him at evening 
 to the bottom of the long slope of Dingo Gap, 
 and a bare half-dozen miles from Surprise. Man 
 and beast had made small matter of the journey. 
 Power came back in better cheer. Reflection 
 stays at the fireside when a man rides off at the 
 heels of a mob of cattle, and Power came home 
 with only the recollections of a summer madness 
 to flick his memory. A mile of difficult travel- 
 ling hid him from the crossways, and who 
 denies Fate sits there sometimes pointing the 
 path to follow? 
 
 Half-way up the distance, where the road 
 swings back upon itself, and a hurly-burly of 
 rocks shuts the sight from climbing farther, 
 where it takes a good man to steer a buggy 
 
 118
 
 THE RETURN TO SURPRISE 119 
 
 there, I say to you, Power met Moll Gregory, 
 astride a shabby horse, face to face. She was 
 going down and he was going up, and they must 
 halt their horses to divide the way. 
 
 At once the old sickness returned. Leech, 
 thou hast tinkered with thine ointments, bring 
 now the knife to heal. The beast was knock- 
 kneed and at odds with age, with a moulting 
 saddle across its back and a sack of goods hang- 
 ing at either side. The girl was dressed in coarse 
 stuff cut out with poor skill on some close night 
 by the light of a hurricane lamp. A big hat, 
 sitting on her head like a roof, spoiled the fury of 
 the suns ; yet that beauty found full forgiveness 
 for the shabby setting. 
 
 The horses waited side by side, and Moll 
 Gregory sat an arm's length away; but the near- 
 ness cost her no effort, and she looked up uncon- 
 cerned. The frown left Power's forehead. 
 
 "Hullo, Mister; back again?" 
 
 "You are well loaded up," he said. "Two 
 tucker bags full to the throat." 
 
 "I get the tucker now. Mum and me reckon 
 to keep Dad home if we can. He's too much 
 trouble when he gets a drop into him." 
 
 "It's a long way round by the Gap." 
 
 "It makes a change." 
 
 "How has the show turned out?" 
 
 "Al. But dad isn't over fond of a shovel.
 
 J20 PELICAN POOL 
 
 He's took up with the wire strainer again, and 
 says there's heaps of money in it when it gets 
 going. You should hear him and mum on at it 
 of a night." She laughed. Her voice was charm- 
 ing when no words defiled it. She waved the 
 flies away and lifted her hat a little. She may 
 have thought Power looked at the hat overlong, 
 for she said: "It isn't great shakes, is it?" 
 
 "Better than getting burnt up." 
 
 "The suns have took longer than I remember 
 doing me harm. Anyway there wouldn't be 
 many to growl if I was spoilt. Maybe a gum- 
 tree or two by the river, or old Bluey the dog 
 might see a change. There's none else to take 
 notice." 
 
 It was for Power to come forward with the 
 compliment; but she received silence for her 
 pains. She pouted charmingly as a child might 
 do. 
 
 All the moods sat in her eyes, and a hurry of 
 passions, grave and gay, waited on her ready lips. 
 Had she been a little older, or read another page 
 of life, she might have understood those silences, 
 and taking pity, have set her horse upon the 
 road. But she looked across to say: 
 
 "I reckon you don't take much account of 
 looks in a girl." She failed again. A third time 
 she tried. "Others do." 
 
 "I see," he said. He pushed a hand across his
 
 THE RETURN TO SURPRISE 121 
 
 face, for the flies held high festival that after- 
 noon. "We didn't leave you lonely when we 
 rode off?" 
 
 "No," came with a toss of the head. "All men 
 aren't like you, Mr. Power. Some knows a neat 
 ankle, though it takes the best part of a dozen 
 mile through the bush to find it." 
 
 "And this bold knight, is he young and charm- 
 ing?" 
 
 "No, he isn't. He's fat, and sweats when he 
 walks. But he knows how to talk a girl round, 
 and he calls me his Princess." 
 
 "Then it is a royal courtship on both sides." 
 She did not understand. "King is your courtier," 
 he said. "I'm glad we didn't all forget you." 
 There fell a little pause and his forehead 
 wrinkled up. Then he said earnestly: "Answer 
 me, girl. I am not asking for nothing. Mick 
 O'Neill is in love with you. Do you mean to run 
 square with him ; or is he to be the dog barking 
 up the tree, and the 'possum not at home?" 
 
 She showed a flash of temper for the first time. 
 
 "My name is Moll Gregory, my address is 
 North Queensland, and I am not telling what I 
 do to every feller stopping me on the road." 
 
 But she met her better at this business. Power 
 broke in on top of her. "He is a good man, and 
 he'll play you straight, whether you play him 
 straight or don't. He is my friend, that's all."
 
 122 PELICAN POOL 
 
 The anger went out of their faces. Power was 
 searching for something to say, but she was the 
 quicker. 
 
 "I'm not going to quarrel with you yet," she 
 said, her head to one side. "It's too dead dull 
 on the river to start scaring blokes away. When 
 will you come along for another look at the 
 show? Dad's done a bit you know there. He's 
 dotty on the wire strainer. That's what has 
 slowed him up. What about to-night ?" 
 
 "Not to-night. Another day. To-morrow, if 
 you like." 
 
 "To-night." 
 
 "Not to-night." 
 
 "To-night," she said again, frowning. 
 
 "To-morrow." 
 
 "I reckon you don't have too many manners. 
 Mister. A girl don't say to-night too often, you 
 know." 
 
 "I oh, why won't to-morrow do?" 
 
 "Very well," she said, much put out and 
 taking no trouble to hide it. "I'll talk to meself 
 to-night while mum and dad fights over the wire 
 strainer. Only I reckon a girl don't feel too 
 good when she says to-night and a feller says 
 to-morrow." 
 
 "Then to-night it is." 
 
 The smiles ran all about her face. "That's a 
 promise, Mister?"
 
 THE RETURN TO SURPRISE 123 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And early?" 
 
 "Not too late." 
 
 She leaned a little out of the saddle, with her 
 dainty teeth just apart. "They say you are a 
 smart man among cattle, Mister." 
 
 "That's good news." 
 
 "It takes a quick man to be a daddy stockman, 
 don't it?" 
 
 "It does." 
 
 "Then I reckon all your quickness has gone 
 into cattle," she answered, and broke into 
 another peal of laughter, and flicked the old 
 horse awake, and so passed on down the road. 
 
 Power drew his reins together and finished the 
 journey up the hill. You look upon a very fair 
 prospect from the summit of Dingo Gap ; long 
 lines of hills lifting broad bosoms to the sky; far 
 behind on the plain the broad belt of the river; 
 ahead the broken pathway dipping downward to 
 Surprise. Power was short-sighted that evening, 
 and waiting up there to breathe his horse he fell 
 into a brown study, and looked from a pinnacle 
 of his soul down a valley long as the roadway 
 of Dingo Gap. Mayhap he called himself turn- 
 coat, wearer of any man's livery, weathercock 
 to flap wings to every wind ; sufficient it is, he 
 left his thoughts presently, for the day grew old. 
 and by sunset he had ridden into the beginnings
 
 124 PELICAN POOL 
 
 of Surprise. With a nod here, a good day there, 
 he passed to the stable and spent the last 
 minutes of daylight serving his horse. That 
 matter to his mind, he turned steps towards the 
 house. 
 
 Maud Neville sat before the house alone. At 
 his coming, she jumped up in great good spirits. 
 He guessed she had counted on the meeting, for 
 she wore a dress he had noticed once. Yet he 
 must remark the wear and tear of summer on 
 her face, and fall out of humour at his own keen- 
 ness of sight. He did his best to meet her mood. 
 ''Back once again," he called out. 
 
 "You owe us two days," she answered. And 
 next she cried: "Jim, Jim, I'm so glad." She left 
 the kisses she had waiting for him till later on, 
 as Messrs Boulder and Niven took the evening 
 against the store across the way, pipe at mouth, 
 the tail of an eye cocked for whatever might go 
 forward. 
 
 Standing there at the doorstep of the house 
 Power became suddenly aware that he had to his 
 credit a long day's ride, and that he was tired. 
 The cries of the crickets and other evening 
 insects entered his consciousness, and with sur- 
 prise he remarked the afterglow of the sunset, 
 and realised night would fall in a few minutes. 
 This slight fatigue affected him suddenly and 
 strangely. He saw with new vision the pure
 
 THE RETURN TO SURPRISE 125 
 
 soul of the woman who waited now ready to 
 receive him. Always she met him with open 
 hands, whether he came in good humour or in 
 bad. She bore the tiring summer days without 
 repining, and, more than that, from the daily 
 course of affairs extracted a philosophy of life. 
 He was tired after the day's ride, and here she 
 stood desiring only to banish his fatigue by her 
 ministrations. She had had her own day's work, 
 but that was unremembered. She had learned 
 that giving was more profitable than taking. He 
 saw how often he hunted the shadow and missed 
 the substance. 
 
 The cries of the insects began again while the 
 afterglow faded in the sky. The promise he had 
 made an hour since came to mind. He bent his 
 brows at thought of it. Well, it was given now. 
 It must be kept. Maud was leading the way into 
 the house, and he was following her mechani- 
 cally. In the dining-room a table was laid for 
 one person. The cloth was clean; all was ready 
 to hand. She had done this on the chance of his 
 coming to-night. This joy of service was love. 
 And he too claimed to love. Yet he had put 
 himself out little enough when all was said and 
 done came much when he wanted, went much 
 when he wished. What a good woman she was, 
 yet he always had to be telling himself this. He 
 was one of those heavy-eyed dullards who would
 
 126 PELICAN POOL 
 
 not believe in the butterfly because the chrysalis 
 was a poor thing. 
 
 What was happening this evening that he was 
 for ever dreaming? He had often enough been 
 a bit tired; but it had not caused melancholy. 
 Why shirk the point? The child on the road had 
 moved him beyond all experience. She had put 
 a torch to his thoughts. She had seemed an 
 echo of all lovers who had tripped down the 
 corridors of time. 
 
 "Wake up, Jim ! You are tired, poor boy." 
 
 "I have been at it all day. Give me something 
 to eat." 
 
 "See, we expected you. While you wash I 
 shall have it all ready." 
 
 He left the room, and a minute or two later 
 he found the meal waiting for him, and she in a 
 seat opposite, elbows on table, hands making a 
 cup for her chin, her face gay and full of fond- 
 ness. "Sit down, Jim, and begin at the begin- 
 ning." 
 
 He went through his examination, and at the 
 same time made a good supper. He received a 
 shake of the head or a nod, a pout or a frown 
 according to the telling of his story. 
 
 "Jim, do you know what I did this morning? 
 I woke up very early and found there had been 
 a sudden change in the night. Quite a cold 
 breeze was blowing. I had to get up at once. I
 
 THE RETURN TO SURPRISE 127 
 
 couldn't help myself. When I was dressed I 
 called out to father I was going for a ride, and 
 went looking for old Stockings. It was break- 
 ing dawn, and sharp enough to remind you of 
 winter. Stockings was quite lively for an old 
 fellow. I went straight out into the plain past 
 the Conical Hill. The sky was growing brighter 
 all the time. The birds were singing as if it were 
 winter, and the hoofs of Stockings rang out clear. 
 Plenty of kangaroos were abroad, and one old 
 man stood up and refused to budge as we went 
 by. I pushed on across the plain as long as the 
 sunrise lasted, looking back now and then to see 
 I wasn't losing Conical Hill. The cold stayed 
 until the sun was over the horizon, and then I 
 turned Stockings round and began to walk home. 
 I was thinking that forty, fifty or sixty miles 
 away you had seen this same sunrise, and felt the 
 same cold in your bones. I understood then how 
 much the life meant to you, and why you were 
 always ready for a muster or a journey down the 
 roads with cattle. Jim, I think a man working 
 abroad has a better chance of reading life 
 straight than a girl who belongs to the four walls 
 of a house. A man must be a dunce to stay un- 
 taught by a morning like to-day. What's making 
 you frown?" 
 
 "I'm not frowning, and I don't think you are 
 right, Maud. When all is added up, a woman
 
 128 PELICAN POOL 
 
 sees her way surer than a man. A good dog has 
 the best religion. He serves his master through 
 fair weather and foul he heels the cattle in 
 season, he chews his bones in season, and takes 
 his kicks in season. He knows the art of ready 
 service. A woman comes next for quick learn- 
 ing; but a man doesn't find the right way with- 
 out hurt. . . . Maud, I have something to say. 
 I want you to understand it now. The best man 
 is ill put together. He may be brave, but he 
 runs crooked in his dealings. He may be good 
 at heart, and a pair of stranger eyes turn him off 
 the course. Listen, girl ... if things . . . well 
 if ever I turn defaulter, put all of me in the scales, 
 and maybe a thing or two will help pull the 
 balance nearer straight." 
 
 "Poor old Jim, don't talk in that heavy way! 
 You have been too hard at it this week. You are 
 tired. I know of something to put you right." 
 
 "Where are you going? . . . What have you 
 there?" 
 
 A bottle of wine was held up to him. 
 
 "We have feasted the visitors since you went 
 away. This is one of the last. Don't tell father." 
 
 "Not this time, Maud. Another day will do." 
 
 "Do what you are told. Open it." 
 
 He obeyed. 
 
 "Fill both glasses and stand up." 
 
 "What madness are you after?"
 
 THE RETURN TO SURPRISE 129 
 
 "I said, stand up. That's right. Now hear 
 what I have to say." She lifted up her glass. 
 She stood by the light of the window, but out- 
 side darkness was falling fast. 
 
 "Drink, Jim, for these glasses have been filled 
 in honour of the past as we have lived it, and of 
 the future as it shall be shaped. The grape fer- 
 ments, and the red wine results ; lovers quarrel 
 and good understanding is born. The orchard 
 blossoms, the blossoms fall to the ground, but 
 from the boughs come forth the fruit. Love 
 arrives with spiced dishes, but when the meats 
 have staled, on the table lies the bread of life. 
 We are learning understanding; but other pages 
 of that book remain for our reading. Drink to 
 receive the clean heart, the straight purpose, and 
 the good comradeship which walks with those 
 things. Let cowardice be unknown between us. 
 The mistake made, we will bare it in our hands, 
 knowing the other will understand." 
 
 Who knows what Power saw in that ruddy 
 wine drunk in the darkened room? He pledged 
 the toast to the end. With never a word more 
 between them they put down their glasses. 
 
 "The others are in the verandah," Maud said 
 to break the spell, "you must talk to them for 
 half-an-hour. Come along." 
 
 She led the way. Darkness had fallen in a 
 clap while he ate, and lamps had been brought
 
 130 PELICAN POOL 
 
 outside. In the distance Mr. Wells was testing 
 his cornet for the evening's work. From the 
 verandah came sounds of raised voices, and at 
 a first look about, the place was full of people. 
 Neville had kept his old seat. At the other end 
 Selwyn appeared well off. Mrs. Selwyn and 
 King, with Scabbyback the mangy pointer, and 
 Gripper the terrier, filled less important places. 
 Somebody smoked good cigars. 
 
 The battle for supremacy between the two 
 veterans had led to a division of honours. 
 Neville had won his old place handy to 
 the waterbags and the whisky, but Selwyn 
 had the cigars and matches at his elbow, and 
 was deep down in his chair, with feet resting at 
 a great height against the wall, as behoved a man 
 whose health was in a rocky state, and no 
 mistake about it. Mrs. Selwyn endured a 
 straight-backed chair; and King, who liked 
 comfort, but who cared more for peace, was 
 poorly served. 
 
 The talk was broken off for a moment when 
 Maud led in Power. Selwyn rose to smile with 
 great charm, and later sank back into the same 
 seat with reluctance, apparently persuaded to 
 keep it against his will. The talk flowed on 
 again. 
 
 "You have wakened up since I was away, Mr. 
 Selwyn," Maud said.
 
 THE RETURN TO SURPRISE 131 
 
 "Yes, isn't it a pest?" Mrs. Selwyn exclaimed. 
 "We have had such a peaceful half hour." 
 
 One thing remained to Selwyn from the ruins 
 of his wrecked health. He could get his forty 
 minutes' nap after a good meal. "Now, look 
 here," he had said in the bedroom before dinner, 
 shaking a tobacco-stained finger, "this absurd 
 stand-on-ceremony is doing me harm. There 
 was excuse for staying awake the first night or 
 two ; but my infernal good manners have carried 
 things to an extreme. Now, look here," said he, 
 wagging the yellow finger, "when we have had 
 dinner, sing to them, or talk to the girl about 
 clothes, or do something else; but at all costs 
 distract the family from me, so that I can get my 
 sleep. I like hearing the gentle hum of voices 
 when I'm comatose." 
 
 "What's your news, Power?" the old man 
 grunted from his corner. "Morning Springs still 
 in the same place, I expect?" 
 
 "Have you come from Morning Springs?" 
 Mrs. Selwyn cried. "What a desperate place ! 
 I stood there in the blazing sun half the day 
 waiting for the coach. The top of my head was 
 coming off. The place was turning round me." 
 
 "Did you see anybody?" said the old man. 
 
 "Milbanks was in. He says it is pretty dry out 
 his way. Says things won't be too good if the 
 rains are late. Claney asked after you. He has
 
 132 PELICAN POOL 
 
 a silica show in tow. The Reverend Five-aces 
 turned up at the hotel a couple of nights and 
 seemed in form." 
 
 "He sounds a gentleman to keep an eye on," 
 said Selwyn. "I think I shall button my pockets 
 when he comes to shrive me." 
 
 "You would do better with a sixth ace in your 
 hat," said King. "He may be out here one day 
 soon. He's due for a visit." 
 
 "He lost a game when I was in," Power went 
 on. 
 
 "Hey!" cried the old man. "How was that, 
 lad?" 
 
 "Half-a-dozen of us were at the hotel pretty 
 late, and he made one of a bridge four. Upstairs 
 a man was dying in the horrors. He had shouted 
 out all night very badly. As time went on he 
 grew quiet. Mrs. Smith, the landlady, a good 
 churchgoer, runs into the room presently. 'Mr. 
 Thomas, there's a man upstairs very sick. He's 
 dying, Sir, or I'll never live to tell another. 
 Come upstairs, Mr. Thomas, and lend him the 
 comforts of the Church.' 
 
 "Five-aces looks at her, and looks at his 
 hand with the king and queen there and all 
 the royal family, and he fingers his chin and says, 
 'There's no call for this fluster, Mrs. Smith. 
 He has a pretty strong voice still. There's no
 
 THE RETURN TO SURPRISE 133 
 
 call for an hour or two. Maybe I'll take a look 
 that way when we've played out the rubber.' 
 
 "Half an hour later Mrs. Smith comes in 
 again in great bustle. Oh! Mr. Thomas as true 
 as I mean to go light through Purgatory, he can- 
 not last much longer. I tell ye he'll be gone if 
 ye wait.' 
 
 " 'Mrs. Smith,' Five-aces then says very 
 short, and frowning down his chin. 'I have 
 every card to my hand. Your business will keep 
 as long as the rubber, it's my belief.' 
 
 "Presently Mrs. Smith comes in again. 
 Old Five-aces looks very black. "It's no good, 
 Mrs. Smith, I have just gone "no trumps." I 
 shall get a "little slam" out of this.' 
 
 " 'Ye needn't put yourself about, Sir,' says 
 she. 'There's been a "grand slam" upstairs.' ' 
 
 Mrs. Selwyn shuddered. "Mr. Power, how 
 could you tell such a horrible story. I feel most 
 unwell." 
 
 "I am sorry, Mrs. Selwyn. I won't offend 
 again." 
 
 "I pray the creature stays away until I'm 
 gone." 
 
 Neville chuckled again in his corner. "You 
 would find him charming until you sat down to 
 bridge. Many is the yarn we have had over a 
 whisky. He can tell the best story for a hundred 
 miles round. Maybe better men could be found
 
 134 PELICAN POOL 
 
 to pilot the soul to Heaven, but he can claim 
 always to be at the pilot's post, and that's the 
 Bridge. There's a good one, Maud, gel. He, he ! 
 Huh, huh, huh!" 
 
 Mrs. Selwyn had not yet recovered. "I 
 sincerely hope our other clergy have a better 
 sense of fitness," she said. 
 
 Neville was having trouble with his pipe. "A 
 parson comes round these parts with a pack- 
 horse or two every six months for a couple of 
 days, and that is as good as one can expect. He 
 don't get two hundred a year wages, and has to 
 feed himself and his horses. With chaff round 
 our parts up to eighteen shilling a bag, I would 
 shake my head at the job myself. He don't get 
 more than a dozen at his service, for half laughs 
 at him, and the other half, that would go, laugh 
 too because the first half laughs." 
 
 "If he comes while we are here, I shall make a 
 point of going," Mrs. Selwyn said. 
 
 "Hey, Power!" cried Neville, jerking his 
 thumb. "Here's the whisky." 
 
 "A good idea," said King. 
 
 "Excellent," echoed Selwyn. 
 
 "Father, your fight this afternoon seems to 
 have cheered you up," said Maud. 
 
 "What fight?" Power asked. 
 
 "The fellers sent Robson up to ask me to un-
 
 THE RETURN TO SURPRISE 135 
 
 lock the tanks. I put him to the right-about 
 pretty quick. A-huh-huh-huh !" 
 
 Selwyn sat up. "Did you get much sport on 
 your trip, Mr. Power? There must have been 
 some thundering good chances early in the 
 morning. Nobody to blunder about and disturb 
 the game from year end to year end." 
 
 "A man doesn't get much spare time with 
 cattle," Power answered. "He rides all day, and 
 stands his two watches at night. He is inclined 
 to leave hunting for another time. The cook 
 took a rifle in the waggon, and got a turkey or 
 two; but he sees double, and generally aims at 
 the wrong bird. We had sport of another kind 
 though, which might have turned into something 
 nasty." 
 
 "Ah! How was that?" 
 
 "On the border of this run and the next is a 
 stretch of timbered country called Derby's Ten 
 Mile. It is a good bit of country, with big holes 
 holding water all the year, and Simpson, of 
 Kurrajong, my neighbour, keeps it as a horse 
 paddock. For all the fine trees by the river, the 
 place has a bad name. You can't get a man of 
 those parts to camp there the night. There is 
 a story of a swagman murdered on the big hole 
 by his mate twenty years ago. I believe the tale 
 is true, but whether or no, they say on calm 
 nights something cries out in the paddock. This
 
 136 PELICAN POOL 
 
 time the cry will sound low down, the next time 
 it will come from the air, and never twice in the 
 same place. You can find a score of men to 
 swear to this. Simpson assured me on moon- 
 light nights he has known the horses stampede 
 from the other side of the river. 
 
 "A carrier I knew told me an accident to his 
 waggon once forced him to camp there one 
 night. It was winter, freezing hard as cold as 
 the Pole and you could hear a horse bell a 
 dozen miles. He was sitting over the fire think- 
 ing of turning into bed, when he heard a queer 
 screech by a clump of timber a couple of miles 
 away. 'Some blanky bird,' he says. He had 
 come round to thoughts of bed again, when he 
 heard the screech a second time, and not more 
 than a mile off, and on the top of it every horse 
 came flying across the dry river bed. They went 
 past him as though they weren't stopping this 
 side of the sea. In a shake the fellow had turned 
 colder than the frost, and he was asking himself 
 what was the trouble, when something shrieked 
 at him, not the length of a bullock team off. He 
 felt a breath of ice in his face 
 
 Behind the house a fowl gave a blood-curdling 
 death-cry. Gooseflesh rose on the spine of the 
 bravest there. Thanks to that self-command 
 which had stood Mrs. Selwyn in stead on so 
 many occasions, she exclaimed, "What's that?"
 
 THE RETURN TO SURPRISE 137 
 
 and no more. But afterwards she owned that for 
 five minutes she was turning hot and cold. The 
 cry was repeated more faintly. Steps sounded 
 outside, and at the same time came the voice of 
 Mrs. Nankervis, the cook, exclaiming out loud. 
 Her steps advanced in a hurry across the house. 
 She burst through the doorway, all wind and 
 heavy breaths, and hands pressed to her ample 
 sides. 
 
 "Lord save us ! There's a python got the 
 yaller pullet under the house." 
 
 "Python !" cried Selwyn, clapping hands to 
 the arms of his chair. "What size?" 
 
 "Ah! Like that!" Mrs. Nankervis threw her 
 arms out right and left. "Twenty foot ! Thirty 
 foot !" 
 
 Selwyn scrambled to his feet. "What magnifi- 
 cent luck!" 
 
 "It don't go twenty foot, nor half it," said 
 Neville, feeling for his stick. "The small ones 
 turn up now and then. The big fellows sit tight 
 in the bush. The pullet's gone. That's a pity. 
 I reckoned on her turning out a good layer." 
 
 There was a pushing back of chairs. Some- 
 body took the lanterns from the wall. Selwyn, 
 Mrs. Nankervis and the dogs went through the 
 door at the one moment. The rest of the com- 
 pany followed at their heels. 
 
 But, beyond the light thrown by the lanterns,
 
 138 PELICAN POOL 
 
 the night showed very black, and the hurry of 
 the party abated. The old man began to chuckle 
 from the rear. "Go ahead," he said. "I can see 
 satisfactory from here. You have got a lantern, 
 Mr. Selwyn. Ye can get under the house. Put 
 the lantern round about the piles first. Unless 
 the snake is half way to Morning Springs, I 
 reckon it's better to take the first look at him 
 from the distance. Afterwards ye can wear him 
 for a comforter round your neck. A-huh-huh- 
 huh!" 
 
 "Hilton, I entreat you to moderate your 
 excitement and consider what you are about. I 
 don't know whether I am on my crown or my 
 toes." 
 
 Selwyn trembled with anticipation. The cigar 
 did a step-dance between his teeth. He seemed 
 to grow lean before the eyes of the company. He 
 held forward the lantern and re-gripped his stick. 
 Step by step he advanced among the piles hold- 
 ing up the house. Bring all your eyes to look. 
 The hunter has gone forth to slay. Pace by pace 
 he made his ground. Inch by inch he obtained 
 a more cunning hold of his staff. Gripper, the 
 terrier, wrinkled at the nose and very stiff at tail, 
 followed him to the field of battle; but Scabby- 
 back the ancient pointer scratched in the 
 shadows as though digging out the very sea- 
 serpent itself.
 
 THE RETURN TO SURPRISE 139 
 
 "Get out of that, you mangy muddler," Selwyn 
 said, prodding him on the way. 
 
 The light from the lanterns thrust far into the 
 shadows; and, behold, upon a patch of sand 
 among the piles was discovered the python 
 heaped in an evil mass and holding the dead fowl 
 among his coils. Black he showed, and dark 
 green in places, and supple and wicked and 
 beautiful and fierce and fascinating and 
 treacherous all in one glance, so that a man must 
 look to admire, and yet turn his head in loathing. 
 
 "That's him! That's him!" said Neville. "And 
 I reckoned he wouldn't wait our visit." 
 
 "Hilton, I implore you," Mrs. Selwyn cried. 
 That was her single moment of weakness. 
 
 Selwyn hooked the lantern on a convenient 
 ledge, where the light fell in all corners of the 
 battle-field. The python made no business of 
 departure, but stared at this hurly-burly from 
 cold eyes in a shovel head as big as a woman's 
 hand. Forward went Selwyn to the combat, taut 
 and tucked up, but never a moment in doubt. 
 All the while he talked to himself, assuring all 
 who cared to listen, courage and a stout right 
 hand must win, and that the gentle persuasion of 
 a boxwood club at the nape of the neck must 
 settle the account even of the serpent of Eden. 
 
 "A-ha, gently does it. Keep back, sir" and 
 a yelp told that Gripper had tested the weight of
 
 140 PELICAN POOL 
 
 his master's staff. "Kindly, kindly, is my way. 
 Bring a lantern this way more to the right- 
 more to the right. A-ha, my beauty, allow me 
 to introduce the friend in my hand." 
 
 Neville wagged his head from the back of 
 affairs. "Power, ye had better see what he's 
 doing." he said. "He'll be getting into mischief. 
 That will be a big feller when he's pulled 
 straight." 
 
 As Power stepped forward, Mrs. Nankervis 
 ran out of the house with the gun. 
 
 "There's sense, woman," said Neville. "Hey, 
 Power, give him this." 
 
 Power put Maud in charge of a lantern, and 
 took the gun. "That's rather a risky business, 
 Mr. Selwyn," he said. "He is too big for a 
 stick." 
 
 Selwyn stretched out a ravenous hand for the 
 gun. He planted his legs wide apart and put it 
 to his shoulder. The great serpent, head 
 flattened down, stared from callous eyes. 
 Gripper showed every tooth. Scabbyback had 
 found business in the distance. Mrs. Selwyn 
 closed her eyes and summoned all her fortitude. 
 There was a moment when everybody waited. A 
 roar sounded underneath the house. The snake 
 whipped his head up and down again in a single 
 movement. His coils fell apart in the twinkling 
 of an eyelid, and riot was let loose. Selwyn,
 
 THE RETURN TO SURPRISE 141 
 
 scrambling back, knocked the lantern to the 
 ground, and the light jumped up and went out. 
 
 The python thrashed the wooden piles, 
 embraced them, rolled free again, knotted itself 
 upon the ground, and fell in a writhing agony 
 among the hunters. 
 
 "Give me the lamp, girl," Power cried out, 
 "and get out quick." 
 
 Maud held out the lamp. Power took the 
 lamp. Power bounded back. Something struck 
 him across the leg. He leapt farther back. The 
 python in hideous pain beat at the piles and at 
 the air. Power heard Selwyn beside him mutter 
 "Magnificent, magnificent." 
 
 "Shoot, man; shoot!" Power cried. Selwyn 
 raised the gun. Power pushed forward the 
 lantern to make best use of it. Selwyn fired 
 point blank. The uproar in the confined space 
 was immense. There was a heave of the coils. 
 The python was blown in half. 
 
 The company drew slowly near, and Selwyn 
 fell into a grand attitude, "A-ha," he said. "The 
 old hand has not lost its cunning. A right and 
 left, and there he lies. Fifteen foot if an inch, 
 by Jove !" 
 
 Very terrible the python looked in death, torn 
 about on the bloody sand with muscles yet 
 twitching. Mrs. Selwyn closed her eyes.
 
 142 PELICAN POOL 
 
 "Hilton, every day you have less consideration 
 for my feelings." 
 
 "He'll be a fair size stretched," said the old 
 man, poking with his stick. "I'm sorry about 
 that pullet. Hold that lamp straight, Maud. 
 Ye'll have the glass smoked. Some of you had 
 better get this mess cleaned before the ants 
 come. Shall we go back to the verandah, Mrs. 
 Selwyn? Snakes don't get through the fly- 
 netting." 
 
 They persuaded Selwyn back to everyday, and 
 Power and he were mourners at the funeral. 
 While they went about the ceremony, Maud and 
 King wandered a little way into the dark. They 
 could watch the sextons going in and out of the 
 lamplight, Power moving quickly about the 
 matter, and Selwyn very full of his past perform- 
 ance. Their own employment finding seats on 
 the warm stones was the better one, for the 
 night was hot, as are most nights when you go 
 to live at Surprise. 
 
 "Have you nothing to say to-night, Mr. King? 
 Are a cigarette and the dark all you want these 
 latter days? Be wise, and give up looking for 
 copper by Pelican Pool. I tell you gold would 
 not be worth the labour. Give by, give by, and 
 gain your right mind among the ledgers over 
 there."
 
 THE RETURN TO SURPRISE 143 
 
 "There is more reading by the Pool than in all 
 those dreary books." 
 
 "A midsummer madness has seized you." 
 
 "Yet I would not find cure for my folly." 
 
 "But look at your ages. A girl of twenty has 
 done this." 
 
 "The young man to the matured woman; the 
 old man to the maid. And this is the reason. 
 The young man looks forward to what is to be, 
 but the old man stares over his shoulder at what 
 is slipping away." 
 
 "It is a fancy that must pass. You say she 
 neither reads nor writes." 
 
 "She is a lantern by whose light I read the 
 Book of Life." 
 
 "Mr. King, are you serious this time or not?" 
 
 "Laugh at me if you like. I know what I am 
 loving. She is young and wild a flower of these 
 hot grounds, quick come to bloom, quick to pass 
 away, and without a soul, even as these bush 
 flowers are without scent. She should sleep 
 upon a couch of blossoms, and go abroad 
 crowned with garlands ; and I would play the 
 elderly satyr and pipe her through the summer." 
 
 Power came across. The funeral was over; 
 but Selwyn waited yet by the grave, smoking a 
 fresh cigar in honour of combat valiantly fought 
 and splendidly won. King got up, and in the 
 talk that started walked away.
 
 144 PELICAN POOL 
 
 "Sit down, Jim," Maud said. 
 
 "Maud, I shall not be staying to-night. I'll 
 come across to-morrow, though." 
 
 "What?" she answered coldly, and frowning 
 of a sudden. 
 
 "I've work I must fix up. I am as sorry as 
 you are. I shall be across to-morrow." 
 
 "You have never had sudden work like this 
 that wouldn't keep." 
 
 "Maybe there won't be any again. Come, it 
 can't be helped. I must get away." 
 
 "Good night, then." 
 
 "Don't be silly, Maud." 
 
 "It is useless crying when a thing can't be 
 mended. So good night." 
 
 "You'll think better of things to-morrow. 
 Then, there it is good night." 
 
 She kissed him coldly when he bent his head; 
 but repenting in the same breath, she drew him 
 to her. "Jim, you told me so suddenly, and I 
 am horribly disappointed. Good luck to you 
 until to-morrow." 
 
 He had nothing to say.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 THE BANKS OF THE POOL 
 
 POWER rode out of Surprise with the hag 
 of reproach seated at the crupper of his 
 horse. He would have proved poor com- 
 pany for a wayfarer; but fortune left him to 
 follow the road alone, and he pushed his fagged 
 mount to some pace, and ate up the distance to 
 Pelican Pool. 
 
 The evening had aged when he arrived on the 
 bank of the Pool. The hour was ten o'clock. 
 We woo sleep early at Surprise, for she proves 
 wilful mistress here, and Power believed him- 
 self too late. He heard the whimper of the dog, 
 and a bark checked in the throat, and then the 
 horse jumped under him in a difficult shy. He 
 threw a glance into the dark for the cause, and, 
 lo ! Moll Gregory sat at the foot of a tree as still 
 as the trunk supporting her. At once the hag of 
 reproach left her seat. Moll rose from her wait- 
 ing place and came forward with a little laugh of 
 greeting. The jealous dark stole her counte- 
 nance from Power's eyes, but her figure defied 
 
 145
 
 146 PELICAN POOL 
 
 its embrace, and she came up to his horse young 
 and careless and bewitching. He thought of a 
 young tree starting on its journey towards the 
 sky. He tightened the rein, the horse stood 
 still, and he fell to staring down on her. Straight- 
 way he forgot time and the ill humours of the 
 day. 
 
 "You are awful late, Mister?" 
 
 "It's a long way from Surprise." 
 
 "I was near giving you up, and then, Mr. 
 Power, you would have caught it next time we 
 met. I'm not a girl for a fellow to say yes and 
 no to all the day." 
 
 "But now I am forgiven, I must get down. 
 What about the horse? There's not a yard 
 round here, is there?" 
 
 "Dad is always talking of putting up some- 
 thing, but I haven't seen it yet." 
 
 "He is quiet enough. I'll hitch him here. 
 There's the saddle to come off. I won't be long." 
 
 When the saddle stood on end at the foot of 
 a tree, and the bit hung loose, then Power made 
 ready for what the hour would bring. The 
 insects were busy, creeping down neck and ears, 
 and crickets kept concert in all corners of the 
 dark. It would grow no cooler until dawn, and 
 soon afterwards the sun would start up into the 
 sky. At a little distance, a light shone through 
 the hessian wall of Gregory's dining-room, and
 
 THE BANKS OF THE POOL 147 
 
 sometimes a voice came from there. Power felt 
 in no mood for the inside of the place. 
 
 "I have been riding all day. Where shall we 
 sit clown?" 
 
 He was led to a seat by the tree trunk. They 
 sat down a little apart. Branches held a latticed 
 canopy over them, and the lattice work let in the 
 starlit sky. The dog mooched round as company. 
 
 "So you had given me up?" 
 
 "Yes, Mister. I'd been waiting there I forget 
 how long. Dad and Mum started to row when 
 we was washing up, and I flung out of the place 
 in a temper. I set about a bit of fishing by the 
 Pool. It isn't bad fun these nights. Sometimes 
 you get a bonza haul. But it's awful dreary 
 sitting by the bank alone. I don't know what's 
 took me lately, but I get terrible tired of things. 
 I reckon it's since Mr. King told me of all there 
 was to be seen away from here." 
 
 They sat in a lap of land on top of the bank, 
 where it fell sharp to the water, and just now a 
 fish leapt in the shallows. 
 
 "Shall we fish, Mr. Power?" she said. "The 
 rod is down there somewhere. They were too 
 slow when I came out, and I gave it over." 
 
 "We will." 
 
 They found a roadway down the bank. They 
 found the rod. They sat upon the bank. She
 
 148 PELICAN POOL 
 
 put the rod over the water, and Power took a 
 pipe from his pocket. 
 
 "They call you Moll, don't they? I am going 
 to be a friend of yours. May I call you Molly? 
 I think it prettier than Moll." 
 
 "Orl right, Mister. We won't quarrel over it. 
 I reckon the mosquitoes like fishing too. Do 
 you fish ever?" 
 
 "Sometimes. I shoot most when there's spare 
 time. I like fishing though." 
 
 "Struth! Something's at me now. I won't 
 yank yet. These fellers give a good bite when 
 they mean business." 
 
 "Do you often come here? I've ridden by 
 many times and watered my horse here ; I've 
 watered a good few mobs of cattle here, too. But 
 I never knew how beautiful it was until I fished 
 to-night." 
 
 "Now and again I get fair sick of Mum and 
 Dad, and then I come and fish or take a walk 
 along the bank. I like listening to the things 
 that move in the dark." 
 
 "What do you hear?" 
 
 "Oh, the fishes are always jumping in the 
 shallows, and sometimes a crocodile sticks his 
 nose up, and times I surprise a turtle in the 
 sands. There's plenty of kangaroos thumping 
 along for a drink strike me ! Hark at that 
 fellow."
 
 THE BANKS OF THE POOL 149 
 
 "Yes, he's noisy enough for an old man 
 Molly." 
 
 "Can't you get out 'Molly' easier? There's no 
 call to jerk your head over it." 
 
 "It was not hard to say. It lies gently on the 
 tongue. And so you make friends with the 
 animals ? If you are here in winter time you will 
 find the pelicans fishing at dawn, and spoonbills, 
 too, as white as snow. You have heard of snow, 
 I suppose ? It falls among the mountains down 
 South in July and August Molly." 
 
 "It don't come easy yet. I reckon Molly is no 
 harder to say than 'My Princess.' ' 
 
 "Does it fall as kindly on the ear as 'My 
 Princess?' ' 
 
 "I like 'My Princess,' and I like Molly. I can 
 do with two friends since I was so long without 
 one. . . . Now, what are you thinking of, 
 Mister? You sit staring at the Pool and sucking 
 yer pipe. Why don't yer talk? You are as 
 dummy as the fishes what won't come at my 
 hook." 
 
 "I was thinking a week or two can make a 
 queer change in a man's fortune." 
 
 "It do. Luck takes a turn times when things 
 look dreadful hopeless. Straight wire. I tell you 
 I've watched the water o' nights, and thought 
 about settling things up. And then, like a cow to
 
 150 PELICAN POOL 
 
 a new-dropped calf, you fellows came along to 
 liven things." 
 
 "We came along one day and found you here, 
 and now all the roads on Kaloona run lean to 
 Pelican Pool. Molly, do you know all you have 
 done? Think, Molly, a moment. Have you 
 kind word for my friend, Mick O'Neill? Or for 
 Mr. King driving through the heat from Sur- 
 prise?" 
 
 "Good enough for them what they get." 
 
 "Don't you believe in love?" 
 
 "Mr. Power, you are too fond of questions. I 
 shall be giving you the rod soon to hold. Don't 
 you think a girl may have a bit of fun? It's 
 awful hard when a man likes you to tell him to 
 clear out. Wake up, Mister; you are awful dilly 
 sometimes. What do you see in the water to 
 stare at?" 
 
 "Every 'yes' spoken now will take a deal of 
 unspeaking later on. Tell me, are you a little 
 fond of Mick?" 
 
 "I reckon there's a bite. Look at the float, 
 and the water rippling." 
 
 "That bite can wait your answer." 
 
 "He's a good figure of a man, isn't he?" 
 
 "He is." 
 
 "He can sit a bad horse with the next man, 
 can't he ?" 
 
 "He can."
 
 THE BANKS OF THE POOL 151 
 
 "He's pretty slick through scrub, and isn't the 
 last on the heels of a mob. I reckon many a girl 
 wouldn't toss her head there." 
 
 "And Mr. King?" 
 
 "He knows how to talk to a girl; but it don't 
 take his fat off him, do it? He's as old as Dad; 
 but he's shook on me, and no error. He puffs 
 terrible in the sun, but he comes as often as he 
 can. He told me there would be something for 
 me in a coach or two, but I said he could keep 
 it. First I liked a bit of attention, it had been so 
 dull; but now I can get as good elsewhere." 
 
 "Send him gently about his business, then, for 
 I think loving is easier than unloving." 
 
 "There's not going to be any sending about 
 business. He can come if he wants, and he can 
 stay away. I know how to be not at home, and 
 he can try his hand talking to Bluey, the dog. 
 Now, don't start preaching, Mister. You can go 
 on sucking that pipe. I'm not at the call of every 
 feller of fifty who gets shook on me." 
 
 "Your own troubles will come one day, Molly, 
 and you will grow a little kinder because of 
 them. The new boot is poor company for the 
 foot, and the heart grows softer with a bit of 
 wear and tear. And so you are ready to punish 
 two men, and all their crime was looking over- 
 long into your eyes. Are only your glances kind, 
 Molly? Have the suns of twenty summers baked
 
 152 PELICAN POOL 
 
 your little heart? Haven't you a memory or 
 two of sorrow stored away to make you softer 
 now? No, don't pout." 
 
 "Mr. Power, you seem uncommon interested 
 in other people. I don't see call for you to worry 
 what I do. I reckon my comings and goings 
 aren't your concern. Mister, you can hear well 
 from where you are. It's time you took a hand 
 at fishing." 
 
 "Have you never found time to fall in love; 
 or have you been too busy saying 'no?' Molly, 
 you were born a candle, and men will come from 
 all the corners, like the bush insects, to scorch 
 in your flame. Where did you steal your hands? 
 A sculptor would break his chisel despairing of 
 them. What Paradise gave you them that the 
 bush might stare them into decay? Molly, 
 Molly, you must have a soul, or what sits in your 
 eyes all day making men drunken?" 
 
 "Mr. Power, you're a poor fisherman." 
 
 "Have you never loved, Molly?" 
 
 "Maybe yes, and maybe no, and it's not you, 
 Mr. Power, I'm starting blabbing to." 
 
 "Tell me." 
 
 "Aw, you'd laugh." 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Straight wire?" 
 
 "Straight wire." 
 
 "There's nothing to tell. Some's been round
 
 THE BANKS OF THE POOL 153 
 
 that I've laughed at and sent away, nor thought 
 nor cared what came of them. And one or two 
 I've liked a little. And one or two has made me 
 cry. But when one fellow goes, there's another 
 to come after him." 
 
 "Has a man held you in his arms? Have you 
 ever been kissed into kindness? What are you 
 laughing at? Don't laugh, I say!" 
 
 "Of course a girl's been kissed. I don't think 
 ever was a time I wasn't kissed. Why a girl 
 would go dummy with only an old dog as mate, 
 and a kangaroo or two, and maybe an old goanna 
 to watch. What are you frowning for? My lips 
 aren't kissed away." 
 
 "The jewel that takes long getting is highest 
 priced. Let's go back to fishing. You have told 
 me enough. . . . No, I can't fish to-night. We 
 might be a hundred miles away from anyone 
 down here. Sooner or later you will go away; 
 but I shall never ride past the Pool again with- 
 out remembering you. I shall come here every 
 year, when the castor-oil tree flowers, for it was 
 flowering when first I saw Molly Gregory stand- 
 ing in the doorway of her tent, holding a lantern 
 above her head. . . . Isn't it still? The night is 
 too close. . . . Molly, why are you so beautiful? 
 Don't you know the night is in love with you? 
 That's why the fishes are jumping. Don't you 
 know the kangaroo and his mate are stooping to
 
 154 PELICAN POOL 
 
 drink down there, that they may share the same 
 pool with you ? Molly, a man and a girl are only 
 young once. It is all over in a few quick years. 
 All life to live in that time. A world to see . . . 
 Molly, wake up. Don't look into your lap. Your 
 rich body is spoiling. The bush is jealous of 
 beauty, and would claw the fairest works with 
 her lean ringers. Molly, wake up and live." 
 
 "Aw, talk, talk, and who is the better for it in 
 the end? I can go back to the humpy more 
 miserable, if that is what you want. Mr. King 
 comes with his grand tales, and drives off in the 
 buggy, leaving a girl to cry her eyes out in a 
 room of bags. I hate the bush. I would spit it 
 out of my mouth, as Dad spits the suckings of 
 his pipe out at the door. What does the bush 
 give you ? Just gives you nothing. Never a man 
 or a girl to speak to. Just wash up, wash up, 
 wash up. And carry the water from the creek. 
 And bail up the goats when you've got them. 
 And a ride to the store as a treat. And make 
 your Johnny cake half the week, because you 
 haven't the heart to make bread, or haven't built 
 the oven. And no schooling. And not a church 
 to go to, even if you did want to. And just the 
 clothes to wear as nobody will take in town. And 
 growl, growl, growl all day from everyone 
 round. And if you have a few looks, there's 
 nobody to tell you what they think of them. Oh,
 
 THE BANKS OF THE POOL 155 
 
 you don't know how sick I am of it. I fall dream- 
 ing sometimes, and think some man comes and 
 takes me right away. And then Mum gets on to 
 me for mooning. I'll get married some day to a 
 looney boundary rider, and live in a hut all me 
 life, and have a pack of children, and grow as 
 skinny as the best of them. If I have daddy 
 looks then I'll sell them to the first man who'll 
 pay me. The first man to take me away can 
 have me, and he can drop me when he's tired." 
 
 "Don't talk like that. Don't dare to talk like 
 that. You and I will fall out, girl, if there's 
 much of that spoken." 
 
 "Turning parson, Mr. Power? . . . Listen, 
 there's Mum. Hallo! What is it?" 
 
 A voice came through the dark. "Mick 
 O'Neill's round for half-an-hour. Aren't yer 
 coming in? You'll go ratty moonin' there all 
 night." 
 
 "Coming!" 
 
 The spell was broken. Power forsook fairy- 
 land for everyday. Moll Gregory and he walked 
 towards the house through the close night. The 
 spikes of the grasses bent under their feet, and 
 insects voyaging through the dark brushed their 
 faces. Gregory stood in the doorway of the hut, 
 fingering his dirty beard and talking to O'Neill. 
 "Hullo, Moll, got company?" he cried. "Why,
 
 156 PELICAN POOL 
 
 it's Mr. Power. Come right in. There's always 
 a seat inside here waiting for Mr. Power." 
 
 "Hullo, boss," O'Neill said, "I thought you 
 were down at Surprise." 
 
 "I promised to look in some time or other. 
 Good evening, Mrs. Gregory; you have late 
 visitors to-night." 
 
 The company found seats in the mean room, 
 which was hard taxed to serve everybody. There 
 was no change in the place since Power had gone 
 away. On the rough table stood the wash basin. 
 The shelf at the back held the crockery. The 
 boxes stood on end for seats. The wire strainer 
 and the potato digger lay in the corner. Power 
 took all in as he filled his pipe again. 
 
 "I reckon you make the old place lively drop- 
 ping in like this," Mrs. Gregory began, looking 
 from one to the other, and leering at Gregory 
 when the time came. "Dad was saying you had 
 been a long while away, and must be hitched 
 up on the road." 
 
 "Things went like wedding bells," said Power. 
 "We put in a couple of days at Morning Springs. 
 That kept us." 
 
 "A bit of a spree?" questioned Gregory. 
 
 "We are respectable men on Kaloona." 
 
 Mick O'Neill had sat down, pushing his 
 spurred feet in front of him across the room. He 
 had brought a new shirt on his back and had
 
 THE BANKS OF THE POOL 157 
 
 dressed his legs in clean trousers, belted with a 
 bright knotted handkerchief. A hat with a gay 
 dent in the crown had fallen upon the table. He 
 had arrived pleased in advance with what might 
 befall, a laugh prisoned in his mouth, a merry 
 word harnessed to his tongue. He sat there, a 
 man forgetting the past where the present was 
 kind; a good fellow who must quicken the heart 
 of any man or woman. Maybe so thought 
 Power, who lost little of what went round. 
 
 "Things aren't much changed here, are they, 
 Mr. Power?" said Gregory in a minute or two. 
 "A man don't feel much like putting a house 
 ship-shape at night after a day's shovelling. That 
 show has got me beat. Gone down into rock 
 now." 
 
 "It's time I kept my promise of a hand," said 
 Mick. "I reckoned for you to be half way under 
 the river." 
 
 "No buyers since we were away?" Power 
 asked. 
 
 "Mr. King still has it in his eye; but it's gaff, 
 and he has found a better show than mine. 
 A-haw, haw, haw ! A-haw !" 
 
 "We've missed you gentlemen since you 
 went," Mrs. Gregory followed up, looking hard 
 at the visitors. "Haven't we, Moll?" 
 
 "Dunno. What's this, Mick? Did you bring 
 along your music? Good lad!"
 
 158 PELICAN POOL 
 
 O'Neill picked up an accordion from the floor. 
 "You said you liked a bit of fun. I thought to 
 knock a tune or two out later on." 
 
 'That's what we want here," cried Gregory 
 very loud. "Do you think you could find mine, 
 mother; or was it broke up?" 
 
 "Have a look in the tent. It was under the 
 stretcher last." 
 
 In a little while Gregory came from the tent 
 blowing the dust from his accordion, and the rest 
 of the evening passed on speedy heels with song 
 and tune and dance. The dust was kicked out 
 of the earth floor by stepping feet, and sounds of 
 "hurrah" startled the elderly night. Faces 
 flushed ; voices grew loud. Gregory swung on 
 his box, opening and closing his arms, knocking 
 the sweat from his forehead, and sending abroad 
 his "A-haw." Mrs. Gregory grown amiable 
 watched from the back, and busied herself 
 presently boiling a kettle of water. 
 
 Power left the hut for the homeward road ere 
 the merrymaking was worn out. The music 
 followed him through the dark, as he saddled 
 and bitted his horse. He had made ready soon, 
 and had turned the beast home. A soft bed 
 waited him at Kaloona instead of the couch of 
 grasses that had been his portion for the week. 
 But maybe he was to sleep no better because 
 of it.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 How THE DAYS PASS BY AT SURPRISE 
 
 EVERY day of the week, at fall of dark, I 
 grope my way here into my tent at Sur- 
 prise, light the hurricane lamp, hook it to 
 the beam overhead, find paper and pen, and spur 
 myself to the telling of a page more of this story. 
 Sometimes a timid breeze comes through the 
 doorway to cool the rising temper of the night; 
 oftener the tent walls droop on their wooden 
 framework; and neither pipe nor cigarette will 
 bring me cheer. 
 
 The night wears on; the mosquito sharpens 
 his appetite, and a fringe of the great army of 
 flying things w r hich moves abroad in the dark, 
 flutters, jumps and creeps in at the doorway to 
 the light. By half-past eight the attack has 
 begun. Crickets in sober grey coats, black- 
 banded on the legs, lead the advance; large 
 crickets and small crickets. Great green grass- 
 hoppers follow; long and narrow grasshoppers, 
 broad and deep-chested grasshoppers. Purple 
 grasshoppers arrive on their heels ; and now they 
 
 159
 
 160 PELICAN POOL 
 
 come, large and small and in all habits. At nine 
 o'clock they cover the ceiling, staring at the lamp 
 with big stupid eyes; and strange moths and 
 flies and flying ants have begun the Dance of 
 Death about the globe. 
 
 Tilt back the chair; find the towel; neck and 
 ears must be covered for the rest of the sitting. 
 When the clock shows half-past nine, pack up 
 the papers again, and step to the doorway awhile 
 that contemplation may bring better humour. 
 Then to bed. 
 
 At last my story is well begun, and a few days 
 must wear out at Surprise and Kaloona before 
 the tale moves much forward again. The cook 
 puts the pot to boil. Little is to show when the 
 lid first is lifted but the water is heating never- 
 theless. 
 
 Power came riding into Surprise now and 
 again, and little he seemed altered, unless his 
 temper had grown crotchety. The camp endured 
 at Pelican Pool. Maud Neville went about the 
 day's work as before and, if she was troubled 
 ever so little so that she rose in the morning 
 with a faint clutch at her heart well, few at 
 Surprise are without their crosses. Mr. Horring- 
 ton, clambering off his stretcher, rather rocky 
 in the morning, finds his eye filled with the 
 wood-heap at the back door and a blunt axe 
 standing by the wall, and hears Mrs. Horring-
 
 THE DAYS AT SURPRISE 161 
 
 ton, clinking a billycan, crunch behind him along 
 the path to the goat pen. Few would believe 
 how unwell a man can feel at half-past six in the 
 morning with a poor night's sleep behind him, 
 and a wood-heap at his elbow. 
 
 Come morning then, come night; come 
 laughter, come sorrow the day's work goes 
 forward. Saturday brings the coach bumping 
 from Morning Springs. Monday, eight o'clock, 
 hears the whistle beginning again the week. 
 Shabby little camp set down in the wilderness, 
 yours is the soul of the drudge, who finds brief 
 time for singing at her labour, who finds still 
 less time for tears. 
 
 On Monday mornings they do the washing at 
 Surprise. Mrs. Bullock, brisk and brawny, sit- 
 ting up in bed to rub her eyes, nudges Bullock 
 from his last ten minutes' sleep. 
 
 "Don't forget the copper, dad. Yer left me 
 with two sticks last time. Yer don't expect a 
 woman to swing an axe as well as wash and bake 
 and run after you from morning to night." 
 
 Mrs. Niven, dyspeptic and dolorous, wakes 
 Niven with her high-pitched tones. 
 
 "Is it going to be the same this week? What 
 does it worry you if a woman kills herself at the 
 tub while you snore there all day? Look at 
 Boulder, Bloxham and Bullock bin up half-an- 
 hour, I reckon, runnin' round for their wives.
 
 162 PELICAN POOL 
 
 And women come to me and say 'My! Mrs. 
 Niven, you looks very poorly lately, and I got 
 to say the heat has took me dreadful, but it's 
 runnin' after you, lifting tubs of water, and 
 scratching on a wood-heap for wood that isn't 
 there that done it." 
 
 Boulder, Bloxham and Johnson are rising up 
 elsewhere. 
 
 Through the morning is great bustle and 
 to-do, a filling of pitchers, a lifting of buckets, a 
 running in and out of the sun to open-air fire- 
 places, a prodding of clothes in coppers with 
 sticks, wringings, beatings, rinsings, re-wring- 
 ings. The morning is gone as soon as begun. 
 
 By noonday whistle the clothes are spread on 
 line and bush and fallen log; and Mrs. Bullock, 
 Mrs. Niven and Mrs. Boulder, rather short of 
 breath, and distinctly short of speech, are dish- 
 ing up the dinner a minute or two late. Coming 
 home from the mine it is well to be discreet. 
 Sitting down to lunch at Mrs. Simpson's bush 
 boarding-house I talk very small on these 
 occasions. 
 
 The wash dries early at Surprise and by three 
 o'clock Mrs. Bullock, Mrs, Niven and Mrs. 
 Boulder are abroad again plucking the strange 
 things down. When the whistle blows at five 
 o'clock the irons are put by and the heaviest day 
 of the week is over.
 
 THE DAYS AT SURPRISE 163 
 
 On Mondays they wash, and on Mondays by 
 another law, the men go forth in clean clothes. 
 If you are one to notice such things, you can tell 
 the week in the month by the shirts going to 
 work. Mr. Carroll, timekeeper, is especially 
 regular this way. First and third Mondays 
 bring him to the office in blue tie and white 
 trousers with an iron mould in the seat; second 
 and fourth Mondays show him in spotted tie 
 and blue trousers weary at the knees. Simpson, 
 the butcher, clips his moustache every first 
 Sunday in the month, and changes from a man 
 of walrus appearance to a brigand with shabby 
 brown teeth. 
 
 But every day of the mouth the single boot- 
 last of Surprise is in demand, as one or other per- 
 son sits down with a pair of half-soles from the 
 store to patch his boots against the ill-humours 
 of the stones. 
 
 Now and then of a morning, between break- 
 fast wash-up and the midday cooking, Mrs. 
 Bullock, Mrs. Niven and Mrs. Simpson slip 
 across to the store for a packet of this or that, 
 and any news that may be running round. It 
 happens often that luck chooses them the same 
 ten minutes; and Mrs. Boulder and Mrs. Blox- 
 ham may be passing by just then. Mr. Wells, 
 storeman, agile and anxious, very quick at a 
 piece of news, very slow at totting up an account,
 
 164 PELICAN POOL 
 
 puts hands wide on the counter and gives a brisk 
 "Good morning. Turned dreadful hot, Mrs. 
 Simpson. Looks like summer come at last." 
 
 "It do," says Mrs. Simpson, casting an eye 
 about the place. 
 
 Mrs. Bullock, leaning far across the counter, 
 takes a look behind the scenes; and Mrs. Niven, 
 standing a little out of the press, lifts her hat 
 upon her head, drops it down again and makes 
 speech. 
 
 "I was took bad agen last night before bed. 
 This is no place for a woman, I tell you that 
 short. I'll take another box of pills, same as 
 last." 
 
 "All gone, Mrs. Niven," says Mr. Wells, bring- 
 ing his hands off the counter with a jump and 
 shaking his head. "Not a box or bottle of 
 medicine nearer than Morning Springs. The 
 last lot was very popular. There'll be something 
 else with the next team sure." 
 
 "You never do have a thing in when it's 
 wanted; that's speaking straight," joins in Mrs. 
 Boulder, leaning farther over the counter. "I'll 
 have that packet of spices down there. It's the 
 last there is, I dare say, and a pound of tea and 
 two of matches, and that's all." 
 
 "Good morning, Mrs. Bloxham. Good morn- 
 ing, Mrs. Boulder."
 
 THE DAYS AT SURPRISE 165 
 
 "Good morning. Good morning. Good morn- 
 ing." 
 
 "I was took bad agen last night before bed," 
 says Mrs. Niven, "and now I come here and find 
 not a dose of anything in the store. This is no 
 land for a woman, I say, and I've said it before, 
 and I wouldn't be surprised if I say it again." 
 
 "Well, Mrs. Boulder," says Mrs. Simpson, "is 
 it true Mr. Regan won't give Kerrisk any bread 
 since they had the row two day back? I heard 
 something about it, but couldn't make a story 
 of it. Seeing that you came across that way, I 
 thought you might have heard." 
 
 "Small things don't worry me," says Mrs. 
 Boulder, of stately and severe aspect. "Live and 
 let live when you're out these ways is what's to 
 do. I heard something last night of someone 
 here that would be a shame to repeat." 
 
 "Mrs. Boulder?" comes the chorus. 
 
 "Mr. Wells, when it comes to my turn I'll 
 have five of sugar and a pair of bootlaces, and 
 see that it's a better pair than last. They didn't 
 stay whole two days," continues Mrs. Boulder. 
 
 "Mrs. Boulder, what was that you heard tell?" 
 
 "It would do better with keeping, Mrs. Simp- 
 son. Mr. Wells, that was a beautiful tune you 
 played last night. Yes, Mrs. Simpson, my news 
 would do better with keeping, but we're all 
 friends here. Well I heard say Mr. King over
 
 166 PELICAN POOL 
 
 at the office there was doing a deal too much 
 running up and down to the river lately. It 
 don't take much guessing to know what that 
 means." 
 
 "Quite likely, Mrs. Boulder. And he isn't the 
 only one, I dare say. Leaving him, what do you 
 reckon brought them two at the house up to 
 these parts for? Selwyn the name is. Come 
 from Melbourne, I hear. I heard say he was one 
 of the heads of the Company, though I wouldn't 
 go much on him doing a day's work." 
 
 "No need, Mrs. Simpson. That sort only 
 wear white collars and sit round a table and talk 
 big. Mrs. Nankervis, the cook up there, told me 
 he and Mrs. don't hit it off, not a bit. She says 
 it's a fact." 
 
 "When is the girl and Mr. Power from 
 Kaloona comin' to a point? He's kept her wait- 
 ing long enough." 
 
 "They say he's not too keen, but she's keep- 
 ing him to it." 
 
 "There's no telling, Mrs. Bloxham. The old 
 man would find a change looking after himself. 
 I wouldn't be surprised if he looked round on his 
 own account then. They say he was pretty gay 
 thirty year back. Back for home agen, Mrs. 
 Boulder? Good morning to you. My turn now, 
 Mr. Wells." 
 
 They open up the office between eight and
 
 THE DAYS AT SURPRISE 167 
 
 nine of a morning, and Mr. King, accountant, 
 pushes up the window before finding his seat 
 behind the table at the far end; while Mr. 
 Carroll, timekeeper, a mild elderly man, takes 
 the broom from behind the door and meekly 
 strokes the floor from end to end. He, too, then 
 finds his seat. The day's work begins pleasantly, 
 with not undue wear and tear, as is the genial 
 custom at Surprise. The satisfying swish of 
 ledger pages and the scratch of pens are all the 
 sounds to wake the spiders in their webs in the 
 high corners. 
 
 But ruder sounds will break that cloistral 
 peace. Old Neville, stick in hand, the first pipe 
 of the day in his clutch, steps down that way 
 from breakfast on most mornings of the week as 
 a start on the daily round. 
 
 "Hey!" cries he, waving his stick in at the 
 doorway of a sudden, "What sawn timber have 
 we on hand?" 
 
 Mr. King, at his ledger at the far end, thinks a 
 long moment and makes answer. "They had the 
 last from the store a week ago. There's nothing 
 on the place until the next waggon is in." 
 
 Half-way down, Mr. Carroll, at his time sheets, 
 feels his chin and deprecates the whole affair. 
 
 "There's not a team due for three week. 
 Someone is a fool on the lease, and he'll not be
 
 168 PELICAN POOL 
 
 far from here. You'd have the place stuck up 
 between the lot of you." 
 
 "I made a memo we were running out a month 
 back," says Mr. King, very even tempered, and 
 twisting his moustache a little. "They have got 
 through that last lot very soon." 
 
 "Robson is a fool," breaks in the old man, 
 wagging his head and coming into the office. 
 "I'll put him to the right-about pretty quick one 
 of these mornings. Goodness ! Look under the 
 shelf there. You've a colony of white ants come. 
 Ye'd have the place eaten down. Carroll, get the 
 kerosene, and give it them right away. Are you 
 on anything that won't keep, King? I'm going 
 underground in a few minutes. Ye might come 
 along and see what's become of that sawn 
 timber. You'll find Mrs. Robson has told Rob- 
 son to board her kitchen with it. I'll have it up 
 agen, if I handle the crowbar myself. I may be 
 wrong, huh! huh!" 
 
 "It gets hot early in the morning now," says 
 Mr. King, rising slowly, and leaning across to 
 the wall for his hat. 
 
 When you take the left-hand pathway at the 
 office door, which leads towards the poppet-legs 
 standing up stiff half-a-mile away, and the fire- 
 wood stacks near the engine-house when you 
 take this path, you begin to pass by much of 
 interest. Mrs. Boulder camps here, and stands
 
 THE DAYS AT SURPRISE 169 
 
 at her doorway to remark who goes down the 
 red path. Beyond her camp two bachelors, 
 beneath a sheet of calico on poles. Two 
 stretchers stand there, two boxes for seats, and 
 among some ashes outside is a forked stick 
 thrust into the ground on which a billy hangs. 
 
 Farther on and on the right hand Mr. 
 Pericles Smith, travelling schoolmaster, 
 occasionally pitches his tent for his monthly 
 stay. By six or seven o'clock of an evening, 
 after tea has been cleared away, he sits in the 
 first tent for all the world to see, getting forward 
 with his monumental work on the aboriginal 
 languages of Australia. Sometimes, indeed, he 
 is otherwise employed. 
 
 "Did you remember about the currants when 
 you came by the store?" says a woman's voice. 
 
 "That must be indeed delightful, dear," 
 murmurs Mr. Smith, turning over the page. 
 
 "You might listen sometimes. I said, did 
 you " 
 
 "Instantly, dear." 
 
 "I said, did you " 
 
 Mr. Smith leaps from his seat on the box. 
 "What is it? What is it? What is it? Goat 
 in or out? Kettle on or off the boil? Wood 
 chopped or wood not chopped? Here I am. 
 What was it? What is it? What will it be? 
 Let us do it all now before I sit down again."
 
 170 PELICAN POOL 
 
 "You are so disagreeable lately, dear. I 
 hardly dare speak to you." 
 
 Mr. Smith closes his eyes. "What is it?" 
 
 "I said, did you remember the currants?" 
 
 "A bar of soap, a packet of candles, three 
 pounds of rice, and currants if they have them. 
 No, dear, I forgot, but I shall do so shortly." He 
 finds his seat again, wearily. "I was at the most 
 important place in the chapter. Now I must find 
 the threads again." 
 
 Silence falls. "I think from the look of the 
 sky there's going to be another hot day to- 
 morrow, dear." 
 
 "I have done so, I am doing so, and I am 
 about to do so again," murmurs Mr. Smith, 
 putting out a hand for Mathew on "Eaglehawk 
 and Crow." 
 
 Farther yet along the road there stands a 
 house of hessian roof and walls of a moulting 
 appearance, and yet faintly genteel as houses are 
 considered out this way. It stands a little apart 
 and a little up the hill as though it has not grown 
 used to the vulgar neighbours of the hollow. 
 Within are two rooms with floors of earth 
 beaten flat; but the path, beginning at the door- 
 way, is paved with red stones. There is a pen 
 built of wooden palings at the back, where a 
 goat despairs out loud all night, and near it the
 
 THE DAYS AT SURPRISE 171 
 
 clothes-line sags from tree to tree waiting for 
 the throat of the foolish. They hang the washing 
 at the back of this house lest Philistine eyes spy 
 upon it. 
 
 Morning by morning, about nine o'clock, Mr. 
 Horrington, general agent of Surprise, may be 
 found on the red stone path in his shirt sleeves, 
 blinking eyes in the sunlight. It would seem he 
 finds the new day less depressing thus begun. 
 An ungracious liver, a treacherous purse, an 
 invalid wife and Surprise to look on through the 
 year these things are not pleasant to reflect on 
 when a man has left fifty behind some years ago. 
 
 Every morning Mr. Horrington stands here 
 blinking in the sunlight while the weakly tread 
 of Mrs. Horrington in the kitchen jars unkindly 
 on reflection. Every evening he stands here 
 while the sun goes down, a little melancholy, it 
 may be also a little muddled in thought. To hear 
 once more the shuffling of Mrs. Horrington 
 must surely not sooth a spirit on edge. If 
 women can spin out work through a whole day, 
 is it good taste insisting a man should know it ? 
 
 He stands on the red steps when Mr. Neville 
 and Mr. King go by at nine o'clock of the morn- 
 ing, blinking, very drooped at the moustache, 
 hunting up a full pipe of tobacco from the 
 corners of a pouch. 
 
 "Hey, Horrington, no business this morning?"
 
 172 PELICAN POOL 
 
 and Mr. Horrington, waking, finds his hat and 
 stick and joins the walkers at the road. 
 
 "You are along early to-day, Mr. Neville, and 
 you too, Mr. King. I discover I have run a bit 
 short of tobacco until I can find the time to get 
 down to the store. How about a pipeful? 
 Thanks, Mr. King. It is a pleasure to taste 
 again the stuff you smoke. What they sell here 
 comes hard on a trained palate." 
 
 Old Neville brings his head round to listen. 
 
 "It's an extraordinary thing about women," 
 goes on Mr. Horrington, planting his stick in 
 the dust as he marches, and keeping his eyes on 
 the toes of his boots which lean up in sympathy. 
 "It's an extraordinary thing, which you must 
 have noticed, that a woman will give you a 
 hammer and a couple of odd-sized nails, send 
 you to the wood-heap and say 'Produce me 
 Saint Paul's Cathedral.' " 
 
 "Did you ever do it for them?" says the old 
 man. "How's your wife? Is she standing the 
 heat better this year? Maud will be along this 
 afternoon, she was saying." 
 
 "My wife will be glad to see her. She gets 
 too lonely there with me engaged away all day. 
 I don't think she is going to be a bit better this 
 year than last. Every day she finds a new com- 
 plaint. Last night she had a pain in the back 
 brought on by the washing. Mrs. Niven gave
 
 THE DAYS AT SURPRISE 173 
 
 her some iodine, and I painted her before bed. 
 This morning she says she can taste the iodine. 
 Really, I have sympathized myself to a stand- 
 still." 
 
 You reach the first of the firewood stacks, and 
 as you shun it on the right, a path leans to 
 the left hand to the main path and wanders a 
 little downhill and across the flat to the hotel. 
 Along this path Mr. Horrington branches every 
 morning. 
 
 Mr. Robson, underground manager, stands 
 by the engine shed, scratching his chest reflect- 
 ingly with a slow, lank hand. He is tall and 
 narrow and dreary-looking, with a big round hat 
 like a halo on his head, and a lean tuft of beard 
 at his chin. He comes to life with a jerk as Mr. 
 Neville and Mr. King round the corner of the 
 firewood stack. 
 
 "Mr. King says you had the last of the sawn 
 timber a week back, and there's not another foot 
 of it on the place. What have ye done with it, 
 man?" shouts Neville from the distance. 
 
 Mr. Robson grows taller and leaner, and jerks 
 his body at many angles and plucks his beard, 
 and nearly stirs himself to anger and immedi- 
 ately grows meek again. "That's gone re- 
 timbering the bottom of the shaft. There's a lot 
 of work done there, and there wasn't much 
 timber."
 
 174 PELICAN POOL 
 
 "There was timber, I tell you. Mr. King says 
 so too. You let the men take it from you to 
 build their camps with. You are a fool. You'll 
 have to wake up. Look at that feller in the 
 engine house ! If he goes on spilling grease like 
 that he'll have the Company bankrupt." 
 
 "Mr. King," says Mr. Robson, as the old man 
 trots round the engine house wall, "I won't be 
 spoken to like that. I've stood enough of it, I 
 have. Mr. Neville will have to choose his words 
 better from now on, or things will be doing. 
 One more word like the last from him and 
 
 "Hi, Robson, what's this? Gracious, man, 
 were you born with eyes shut?" 
 
 "Coming, Mr. Neville," cries Mr. Robson, 
 crumpling up into a run. 
 
 And so the day wears on at Surprise ; and the 
 seven days go round and make the week; the 
 four weeks add up into the month. Seven 
 summer months and five months of winter walk 
 in close procession until the year has turned a 
 circle. The cry of the new-born child may 
 startle the camp, and Mrs. Bullock, Mrs. 
 Boulder and Mrs. Niven will repair to the scene 
 with kind hearts and right good will, that pangs 
 may be lessened in the hour of trial. The dead 
 man may be laid in his red grave among the 
 saplings on the hill, and the clock will stop an 
 hour that brief blessing may be read. The birds
 
 THE DAYS AT SURPRISE 175 
 
 sing and love make in their season. Fever 
 comes with burning hand in its season. And 
 thus and thus the days spin out. 
 
 Little lonely camp, set down to war with the 
 wilderness, not much longer must you keep 
 guard unaided. Presently across the plain the 
 first thin railway line will come, and with it will 
 arrive timid spirits who dared not leave such 
 things behind. They shall make and re-make, 
 hammer and twist you, giving you food to grow 
 out and out. Your roofs shall glint in the sun, 
 your streets shall be set with gardens; the hum 
 of traffic shall be your voice going up to the 
 wide skies. Little shabby camp, swelling 
 presently into a great city, in the long years 
 which wait for you, when you have grown great 
 and weary and sick, it may be you will peer back 
 into the past and covet forgotten days.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 How THE DAYS PASS BY AT KALOONA 
 
 THE long days of early summer went by on 
 Kaloona Station. While the last stars 
 were leaving the sky, Jackie, the black 
 horse-tailer, let down the slip-rails of the house 
 paddock and cantered into the dusk, whip in 
 hand, the sound of his horse dying slowly and 
 solemnly in the distance. The stars would faint, 
 the first glow of dawn would spread behind the 
 trees upon the river, one or two birds would 
 tune their throats a little while. Light would 
 grow. Presently, advancing horse-bells cried 
 across the distance, Jackie's whip banged out in 
 the stillness, and the thud of many hoofs striking 
 the ground rumbled from afar. With a brave 
 chiming of bells, the horses would come home. 
 
 Mrs. Elliott, the cook, and Maggie, the maid 
 of all other work, arose betimes on these long 
 days. There was much to do. Mr. Power 
 would come looking for breakfast; breakfast 
 called for a lighted fire. There was the wood- 
 box to visit, and horrid little Scandalous Jack to 
 
 176
 
 THE DAYS AT KALOONA 177 
 
 dress down should it be empty. Mrs. Elliott, 
 ample and beaming, and very gay when you 
 knew her well, pushed her stout leg from the 
 sheets of a morning while the world was still 
 grey. "Come on, Meg; it's time we was 
 moving." 
 
 The place was well awake when the sun 
 looked over the edge of the plain ; a clatter 
 going forward in the kitchen, the parrots 
 whistling in their cage by the window, the gins 
 yabbering at the doorway of their hut, the voices 
 of men raised down at the yards. There Power 
 gave O'Neill the orders for the day, and 
 Scandalous Jack moved everywhere, full of im- 
 portance and loud talk. The horses stood in the 
 yard, and a man or two went about the morning 
 feed. 
 
 Kaloona stands upon the river in a noble 
 stretch of timbered country. The timber 
 shelters the homestead on three sides, and falls 
 back to the brink of the water. At high noon on 
 a summer day you will find cool places under the 
 trees where a man may lie in fair content. There 
 is always a bird or two flitting among the 
 boughs, with a bright call in his bill. 
 
 Very fair grows Kaloona by moonshine or by 
 starshine on summer nights; the water sleeping, 
 the night loud with insect voices, the sound of 
 splashes in the shadows.
 
 178 PELICAN POOL 
 
 Summer finds it a fair spot ; but winter brings 
 it loveliness with both hands. The breath of the 
 frost comes down at night, and sends a man 
 abroad at dawn blowing his fingers, and throw- 
 ing an eye to the East for the lie-a-bed sun. It 
 comes at last, big and red, tumbling over the 
 country in long jolly beams. Now in tree and 
 bush begin the birds, calling, whistling, crying, 
 mocking. The pelican is pouting his breast in 
 the river, and the spoonbill shovels in the mud. 
 
 After breakfast comes the saddling up, and 
 many a clever rider can lose his seat when the 
 frost is in the air and the young horses leave the 
 yards. 
 
 Spring is nigh as lovely. The parrot flashes 
 his colours in the sun, the bright-breasted 
 finches swing in the bushes. The slim black 
 cockatoo sweeps overhead, and the sulphur-crest 
 screams in the high branches. A fair spot is 
 Kaloona by the river. 
 
 Life has ups and downs there. Much work 
 there is to do sometimes hard days in the 
 saddle, with short rations now and then, and a 
 bed at the end under the sky. Slack times come 
 in their turn, when the hours arrive empty- 
 handed and those first long summer days, 
 when the musterers had come back from Morn- 
 ing Springs, supplied little employment after 
 the bustle round in the morning. It was the
 
 THE DAYS AT KALOONA 179 
 
 season for a man to look about and put himself 
 in repair; mend his whip, teach his dog manners, 
 patch his boots and the like. When the sun 
 was in the middle of the sky, and the iron 
 roofs of the homestead and the huts cracked out 
 loud in the heat, a man could lie on his back and 
 smoke a pipe, and so find content until evening'. 
 
 It was never Power's way to hang about the 
 homestead, unless work kept him there; but 
 some evil spell had fallen on him these latter 
 times, causing him to prowl at home at idle end. 
 He grew crotchety these days, hard to please 
 and poorly pleased even when things were well. 
 There were mornings when he saddled a horse 
 and rode over to Surprise, returning as gloomy 
 as he went, and again, as evening came on, he 
 rode away, leaving those behind him to guess 
 his errand. 
 
 "Mrs. Elliott," said Maggie one breakfast, 
 putting her hands to her hips and talking very 
 straight, "the boss has turned cranky of a 
 sudden. There's no getting yes or no out of 
 him. It's no good to me. I'll be letting fly." 
 
 Mrs. Elliott gave answer. "Don't be in a 
 flurry, Meg. All men are alike. They get took 
 that way now and then. They're as hard to get 
 forward sometimes as a full-mouthed ewe in the 
 dipping yards. Don't be too quick on him yet.
 
 i8o PELICAN POOL 
 
 Maybe he's fell out with Miss Neville at Sur- 
 prise, and is in the sulks." 
 
 Unlucky Scandalous pushed his face through 
 the kitchen doorway. "What's come to the boss 
 of a sudden? He's as cross-grained as you like. 
 Took it out of me just now because he reckoned 
 the place was untidy down there." 
 
 "And a good thing too," said Mrs. Elliott, 
 turning sharp about. "If you spent more time 
 on the woodheap, instead of sneaking up here 
 minding other people's business, you might be 
 took up less often." 
 
 One morning at breakfast, when Mrs. Elliott 
 had bustled to put something special on 
 the table and had not had "Good morning" for 
 her pains, as Power sat gloomy, despising his 
 food and chewing thought, she took him to task. 
 
 "Mr. Power," she said, putting down a new 
 cup of tea, and taking up a stand before him, 
 "what's come on you that you give up the 
 horses and stand twiddling your thumbs?" 
 
 "There's no work outside." 
 
 "That's the first time that's ever been. What 
 are them horses doing in and out of the yards 
 every day, and not a leg put across them?" 
 
 "It's too hot to ride about for nothing." 
 
 "Nothing? The best horses in the country 
 hanging their heads because nothing doing? I 
 never heard of a run which wasn't the better for
 
 THE DAYS AT KALOONA 181 
 
 looking after. Do you know what they say at 
 Surprise ? They say Simpson gets half his meat 
 uncommon cheap, so cheap that it only takes 
 him a quiet ride at times when Kaloona's asleep 
 to fill his yards for the morning. They say he 
 is a quicker man at hiding a branded beast than 
 any feller on Kaloona is at finding one." 
 
 "I've heard that story. He doesn't get many, 
 and he'll drop in in good time." 
 
 But Mrs. Elliott had her way, though, like a 
 wise woman, she raised no flag of victory. Break- 
 fast over, Power found the way to the yards, 
 caught a horse, saddled it, took a waterbag, some 
 midday tucker and a whip, and rode away at a 
 foot pace across the plain. He spent all day in far 
 places, leaving the homestead when the sun was 
 low, and finding himself several miles away 
 from home when the sun again was climbing 
 down the sky. He never pushed his horse 
 beyond walking pace, but neither did he rest it ; 
 and many miles were put behind before the day 
 was done. He passed from point to point, where- 
 ever there was water or a clustering of timber, 
 wherever there was chance of coming up with a 
 mob of cattle. He knew that wide country as 
 another man knows the floor of his office, and 
 when he wished kept course as the arrow flies. 
 Once or twice he drew taut the rein, and stared 
 at faint prints upon the ground; and such halt
 
 182 PELICAN POOL 
 
 might bring change of direction. He spent the 
 middle of the day on his back in a fair clump of 
 timber, but saddled up again while the sun was 
 far up in the sky. 
 
 He judged it to be five o'clock at last, and he 
 was still an hour's ride from home. He was 
 heated to his bones by the long journey in the 
 sun, the coat of his horse was curled with sweat ; 
 he was jaded, fagged and thirsty. 
 
 He took his hat from his head, and pushed it 
 between the surcingle and the saddle. The sun 
 was losing strength at last ; a breeze was finding 
 the way from the South. His shadow and his 
 horse's shadow were growing longer; the 
 crickets were tuning their orchestra against the 
 evening, but in spite of their shrill cries, the 
 plain, which had been hushed all day, had grown 
 more hushed. 
 
 He looked again at the sun, which was a bare 
 half-hour from its going down. The red glare 
 dazzled him, and when he dropped his eyes, the 
 white stones on the ground changed to blue. He 
 looked up to get the light from his eyes, and 
 found he was passing under the crag of one of 
 those sudden hills which climb high out of the 
 plain all over that country. It stood above him, 
 lofty, sheer and lonely, grass-covered for a 
 hundred feet of the journey, thence forward to
 
 THE DAYS AT KALOONA 183 
 
 the summit, piled with immense bare boulders, 
 carrying a few shrunken trees. 
 
 Looking up, a freak of mind urged him to 
 stand on the highest point there. He slacked 
 rein and got to the ground. A bush stood con- 
 venient to hand to secure the horse. He took 
 off the saddle, and rubbed away the saddle mark. 
 Then he turned for the ascent. 
 
 The hill lifted up abruptly from the plain, 
 several hundred feet towards the sky. There 
 was no gentle slope of beginning, and Power 
 began a heavy clamber over giant boulders, 
 shabbily clad with coarse clumps of grass. 
 Immense fat spiders watched him from the 
 middle of giant webs strung from rock to rock, 
 lizards and insects hurried in and out of crevices, 
 and shrill voices of crickets met him from above, 
 and came after him from below. The southern 
 breeze was bolder as the journey advanced. 
 Half way up the steep, where the grassed 
 boulders ended and the bare rock began, he 
 stood still for new breath. Already he had 
 gained a strange world, high out of the plain, 
 and the horse was far and puny, among the 
 tumbled rocks, which broke like surf at the foot 
 of the hill. 
 
 The summit was high above him yet. He 
 began the journey again, using his hands as well 
 as feet for the last pinch. He was on top at last
 
 184 PELICAN POOL 
 
 a broad, flat space, where a little grass and a 
 few bushes grew, with a patch or two of fine 
 sand among the tumble of rocks. On three sides 
 the hill fell down in steep faces, up one of which 
 he had climbed; but to the South it dropped 
 sheer in a hundred foot precipice to grassed 
 rocks piled up to meet it. Because the sheer- 
 ness of the fall fascinated, and because that way 
 the breeze blew steadily into his face, Power sat 
 down on the edge of the cliff, with the sun sink- 
 ing on his right hand. 
 
 He who was so used to great distances was 
 filled with wonder and delight. He stared from 
 his high seat. He looked upon an ocean torn up 
 in storm ; but it was larger than the seas of his 
 travels. The waves of this ocean were hills cast 
 up from the lap of the plain, as the sea wave is 
 scooped high up by the rage of winds. The 
 resemblance was exact. The country swept up 
 and down for miles and tens of miles, every- 
 where heaping up its waves and striking them 
 immovable as they leant to their fall. The 
 mellow light of evening turned the bare pasture 
 into ocean green. Only was lacking the grind 
 and swish of waters in rage. It was ocean con- 
 ceived by giant mind and struck still by giant 
 hand. 
 
 Presently, as the first wonder passed away, 
 Power took the details into his eye. It was not
 
 THE DAYS AT KALOONA 185 
 
 all green country on closer look. There were 
 patches of grey and patches of slate where 
 the long sunbeams fell on tall rock faces. 
 There were veins of shining white quartz 
 pushing from the ground, hinting at un- 
 known copper, which one day would be 
 torn from its hiding place. There were red 
 patches of bare earth, which the green seas were 
 seeking to devour. There were greens and 
 greener greens, but, look ever so long, the effect 
 of ocean remained. 
 
 It was far down there to the foot of the 
 precipice and to the top of the rocks ; and there 
 were other rocky places infinitely farther down, 
 as though making part of another world. Dwarf 
 trees sucked a living from them, and the sun- 
 beams stole the roughness from their face. 
 They would be warm to the touch. At the 
 mouth of every cleft and cave sat a wallaby with 
 pricked ears and black face, performing toilet 
 before moving abroad for the night. Sometimes 
 the little beast sat on a point of rock, holding 
 paws neatly before him, squinting at the sun and 
 turning suddenly to nip his back. Not one took 
 notice of the strange man who watched from so 
 far above. 
 
 Power was high up high up. The tops of all 
 those other hills were nearer earth than he. 
 There was nothing between him and the sky.
 
 186 PELICAN POOL 
 
 Two or three small birds, black with white tags 
 to their tails, skimmed to and fro overhead and 
 twittered cheerily. Other birds were fluttering 
 and squabbling in the bushes, as though this hill 
 was their nightly bedchamber. Strange and 
 happy thing a bird; able to choose its walks on 
 mountain or in meadow, able at will to breast 
 fierce winds of high places, or pipe a lay in 
 gentle noontide bower. Strange and happy 
 thing a bird to throw care away, clap wings and 
 seek new worlds. 
 
 Power was high up high up, and only these 
 skimming birds between him and the sky. He 
 had left the world behind him when he took in 
 hand the climb; but like a fool he had brought 
 his bag of care slung upon a shoulder. He had 
 forgotten it a minute or two when first he looked 
 from here ; but now he found it again, full 
 stuffed to the throat. 
 
 How would this struggle end? Was he soon 
 to perish in a tempest of longing and self-hate? 
 Was this thing called love? Did love stop the 
 clock of a man's day, and leave him to wag his 
 hands like a dotard in the chimney corner? .... 
 
 Look again and again the idea of ocean 
 stayed with this wide scene. For miles and tens 
 of miles the waters heaped and fell. He had 
 seen the resemblance always, whenever he 
 looked from one of the hilltops, and the sight
 
 THE DAYS AT KALOONA 187 
 
 had pleased before. Now it annoyed. Why so? 
 Easy the answer. Torn sails and a banging 
 rudder a rage of winds and a lee shore a 
 frowning night and an unknown port that was 
 a man's life. . . . 
 
 The breeze was strong and cool up here- 
 steady, straight-blowing from the South. It 
 passed across the hill and went on its way. The 
 sun was hurrying westward. Ah, to snatch 
 wings from these skimming birds, and ride with 
 the breeze, or hurry on the heels of the sun as it 
 brought morning to new lands. . . . 
 
 The sun was aged and kindly now ; the great 
 country was hushed. The birds were at their 
 good-night hymn, the insects accompanied it 
 from the ground. The little furry animals below 
 were leaping from their dens, and stretching 
 limbs in the warmth. Peace everywhere but in 
 him. Fool! there was no peace down there. 
 The birds made glad song as they made supper; 
 but what of the flies they hunted down? And 
 were those little beasts below better off? Some- 
 where the dingo yawned; and the python waited 
 at the waterhole. They might not all return in 
 the morning. What was happening to the tiny 
 things which found a world in the grasses and 
 under the stones? Peace? It was like some fair 
 face from which you tore the loveliness to dis- 
 cover the skull behind.
 
 i88 PELICAN POOL 
 
 The little black birds had flown away leaving 
 him alone there. The other birds in the bushes 
 had given up their squabbles. In a minute the 
 sun would touch the horizon, and the sky would 
 drink of his last glances. There would be a 
 brief darkening before the stars leapt into their 
 places. But he sat on, unready of purpose 
 
 Why had he chosen to war with great forces? 
 What was he better than a herder of cattle, with 
 few thoughts beyond the needs of the day? 
 Such terrors were gathered against him as might 
 have assailed a prophet of olden time, scowling 
 at the mouth of his cavern. 
 
 There was a soul in the body, or why did he 
 deny the pleadings of the body? There was a 
 soul in each body which endured while its house 
 rusted, a light burning steadily in a chamber 
 while a storm outside beat and aged the walls. 
 Yet he could not deny the body to aid the soul. 
 
 His love for this young girl was like a great 
 wind passing through a house, clashing and 
 clanging casements and doors. If he sheltered 
 from it assuredly he would perish. He 
 would soon be ill in body as now he was sick 
 in mind. One hour a night he rode down to the 
 Pool, and for that one hour he endured the day. 
 
 She was making him mad. She walked with 
 him on tops of mountains. She led him by the 
 hand into cavernous places awful with light-
 
 THE DAYS AT KALOONA 189 
 
 nings. She sat on the lips of Spring, dropping 
 blossoms through her fingers. She was a per- 
 fume from the East. She was a wine from a 
 land of grapes. The dreams of a world looked 
 from her eyes. The passions of a world waited 
 on her lips. . . . 
 
 The sun had set and but a minute of time 
 gone. In another such instant darkness would 
 have dashed a mantle round the earth, and the 
 stars would have leapt out of the sky. The way 
 to the bottom was stony. He must be home. . . . 
 
 Day had done its business and departed, and 
 he sat wringing hands as it rushed away. Not 
 again if he would call himself man to-morrow r . 
 
 Good-bye. It had a hollow sound. Good-bye 
 never again to see her. To ride no more the 
 road to the river. To forget October brought 
 blossoms to the castor-oil tree. To clap shut his 
 ears when her voice called. . . . 
 
 The descent was rougher than the climb. Was 
 he bruising his hands because the day had 
 darkened, or because dark had come down on 
 his hope? . . . 
 
 Once more to saddle his horse. Once more to 
 take the road to the Pool. Once to say good- 
 bye.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 THE PARTING BY THE POOL 
 
 NOW his mind was made up, he felt weak- 
 ness leave him. Trouble never nagged 
 when there was work to do. The horse 
 waited to be saddled at the bottom of the hill, 
 which task he did with the speed of long custom. 
 He had chosen for the day's work the little 
 chestnut mare which carried him from Surprise 
 the night he met Moll Gregory. He had chosen 
 well, for she was staunch and willing without 
 airs and fancies. Once he turned her towards 
 the river, she held the way like a prim Miss 
 travelling to school. 
 
 The sky was green as he came down the hill; 
 colour faded from it; darkness fell upon the 
 whole country. The stars took their places in 
 the sky, and began the slow turning which he 
 had watched so many years now that they told 
 him the month and the hour as might a clock. 
 
 The breeze had lessened to a tremble as he 
 climbed down to the plain, and the night clapped 
 a warm breath upon him. Distant summer 
 
 190
 
 THE PARTING BY THE POOL 191 
 
 lightnings flicked across the lower skies. The 
 feet of the stepping mare trod evenly upon the 
 pebbles and on the bare earth. He chose her 
 often for the day's work because of the speed 
 of her walk; but to-night she seemed turned 
 sluggard to enrage him. Yet the road was fall- 
 ing behind. The hill he had climbed was far 
 over his shoulder. The Conical Hill of Surprise 
 had risen on the horizon. Now the green belt 
 of timber was hinted at a few miles ahead. Now 
 he saw it with distinctness. Thought took hold 
 of him again until he found himself in the deso- 
 late strip of country where the floods ran in the 
 rains. The warm night was wrapped about him. 
 Crickets shrilled everywhere. Several times 
 sounded the thump of startled kangaroos. 
 Lightnings flickered without pause above the 
 outline of the hills. It seemed to him he was 
 part of great music working in crescendo. 
 
 Here was the Pool. He knew it was the Pool ; 
 but it was too dark to discover the waters. She 
 lived here. He would see her in a few moments. 
 He would see her. He would see her in a moment. 
 He lived through the long day that he might 
 see her a little while in the night. He would see 
 her again when this slow beast had trodden a 
 little farther. 
 
 Suddenly he grew cold with such a greediness 
 of cold as the passion of the tropic night could
 
 192 PELICAN POOL 
 
 not appease. He had come to say good-bye. In 
 half-an-hour he would be moving away from the 
 Pool, nevermore while she lived there to ride 
 that way. He could not do that. No, not he. 
 He was but a man. His shaking body was a 
 man's body. He was unworthy to be battle- 
 ground of contending right and wrong. Not 
 to-night. He could not make an end to-night. 
 To-morrow, but not to-day. ... A moment ago 
 he rode by the beginning of the Pool, and now 
 he passed the castor-oil tree. The trees were 
 breaking apart. There stood the hut and the 
 tents. 
 
 From a chaos of fancies he presently took 
 hold upon realization. In the doorway of the 
 hut, looking towards him through the dark, 
 stood Moll Gregory. Lamplight from inside 
 passed her and pierced the night with a long- 
 beam. She held an empty basin in her hands. 
 The dark was clear to him who had ridden half- 
 a-dozen miles through it; but she looked before 
 her in a puzzled way. 
 
 "Is that you, Mr. Power?" 
 
 "Yes, Molly, 1 ' 
 
 He believed he shook when he spoke to her. 
 She was a draught of water, chilled by snows 
 from high peaks, offered into the hands of a 
 dying man. How she impassioned the night 
 with her loveliness. He would never find her
 
 THE PARTING BY THE POOL 193 
 
 beauty staling, though he looked on her for 
 ever. All the moments of a day brought new 
 emotions watching from her eyes, new passions 
 sitting upon her lips. He never knew how holy 
 beauty might be until he looked upon her. How 
 the light shone on her brown hair, lying coiled 
 on her head and brooding round her brows. 
 
 He found he had pulled up the mare in the 
 doorway. 
 
 "I've come to see you, Molly." 
 
 Why did she not answer, instead of standing 
 like that, tapping the basin on her knee and look- 
 ing first at him, and then away, and then at him 
 again? Did she understand at last he loved her? 
 Another man kneeling in homage to her. She 
 was frowning a little bit. He found himself dis- 
 mounting. The dog, grown friendly now, came 
 forward with waving tail. The hut was empty. 
 
 "Mum and Dad went over to the shaft a while 
 back," she said just then. "There's nobody 
 here." 
 
 He led the mare a little way away; tethered 
 her ; unsaddled her. She drooped her head after 
 the day's work. Another hour he would have 
 led her to drink; but now where was the time? 
 
 The girl had gone indoors when he returned 
 to the hut. She stood by the table putting the 
 crockery into the basin. The room was heavy 
 with heat. The lamp wick was untrimmed,
 
 194 PELICAN POOL 
 
 smoking a little and lending a needy light. 
 Nothing was changed. 
 
 "Them is to wash up," she said. 
 
 He was living again, standing thus beside her. 
 Yet he was weary with knowledge that he 
 waited on her for the last time. He grew en- 
 tranced with her quick hands in the basin. She 
 nodded her head to the dish-rag hanging on the 
 wall. He took it and faced her across the table, 
 and together they began to wash up. 
 
 He knew then that whatever waited for him in 
 the long years to be lived before he became an 
 old man whether there were other women to 
 meet and other lands to travel these moments 
 he was living now would walk with him in 
 memory to the very shadow of the grave. That 
 strange mood visited him, which sometimes 
 comes to a man, when he stands out of himself 
 and views the scene as onlooker. He peered into 
 future years, when Maud and he journeyed 
 kindly down the road together, and the worst 
 wounds of this summer madness were crusted 
 over. But he knew there would be hours when 
 certain winds blew, or certain scents drifted out 
 of the scrub, or certain words were spoken, 
 when he must go apart a little while until 
 memory slept again. 
 
 The mood passed as instantly as it arrived, 
 and once more he stood before her weary and
 
 miserable. She would tire of a glum face soon. 
 He had carried a long face lately when they 
 walked together. Beauty she, and he the Beast. 
 Strangely she had passed it by. She was still 
 wilful and careless, yet now she had moods 
 when she was thoughtful and a little kind. Never 
 was she heavy-hearted; though to-night she 
 frowned just a little and was as silent as himself. 
 He heard a rattle of cups. Within his heart 
 growing and growing with the moments feel- 
 ing was in torrent, until it seemed excess in him 
 must overflow and fill her barren little heart. 
 They chanced to look up at one moment from 
 their work up and out at the door and a great 
 white star fell down the sky. 
 
 "Do you know what people say, Molly? 
 Every falling star is a soul hurrying from earth." 
 She shrugged shoulders with faintest movement. 
 "I think a man's soul dies, Molly, when hope dies. 
 Perhaps some man's hope has died to-night." 
 
 For an instant she turned wide grave eyes 
 upon him, then she went back to work, moving 
 her hands deftly in and out of the basin. 
 
 "Molly, you could get along without me, 
 couldn't yon? If I had to go away for a while 
 and could not come back, you would not be 
 lonely with other friends to look after you. You 
 have been a good little comrade to me ; but I 
 think our friendship was not meant to die of old
 
 196 PELICAN POOL 
 
 age. You could get along without me, couldn't 
 you and Molly, you wouldn't forget me just at 
 first?" 
 
 "No, Mister." 
 
 "I asked you not to call me Mister. Say Jim." 
 
 "No, Jim." 
 
 She had finished washing up. She went out 
 into the dark and threw away the water. She 
 found a second cloth, and began quickly to dry 
 the cups he had lingered over. 
 
 "You aren't so slick to-night," she said. "You 
 are pretty slick at this kind of thing for a man." 
 
 "I was round the run to-day. I came here 
 from across the other side. The Pool is shrink- 
 ing fast, Molly." 
 
 "The rains should be here, Christmas." 
 
 "It might be a pool of love, and all the drinks 
 men take from it shrink its rim. Molly, are you 
 as clever as you pretend at forgetting? If some- 
 thing happens, so that I come no more to the 
 Pool when you go alone to fish or when you go 
 with others, will you remember that once or 
 twice you fished with me?" 
 
 "You aren't to go away. Sometimes I think 
 you couldn't." 
 
 The work was done. She turned with a grace- 
 ful movement of her body as she said the last 
 words, and was putting the cups and saucers on 
 the shelf, and the spoons with a rattle into a box.
 
 THE PARTING BY THE POOL 197 
 
 "Hang up the cloth, Jim, and wake up. You 
 aren't always asleep. I heard something about 
 you yesterday. They say you are such a 
 daddy man with horses that when you camped 
 out Brolga way, the brumbies came down from 
 off Mount Sorrowful to sing to you. Ah, Mister, 
 I have got you smiling." 
 
 "I'm not Mister." 
 
 "Jim." 
 
 Silence fell again, and once more he grew 
 conscious of the little sounds that accompanied 
 the flight of time the flutter of wings round a 
 lamp; the swish of a girl's dress; the cries of 
 insects from the dark. It was like standing by 
 a river filled to both banks, which swept swiftly 
 and smoothly to the sea, and hearing the small 
 voices of multitudinous waters. . . . What did 
 she say now? 
 
 "I found them specimens this morning. They 
 was a little higher up the bank. Do you want to 
 see them ? They aren't far." 
 
 "We went to find them the first day I came 
 here, Molly. Do you remember? It does not 
 matter now. I shall remember we never found 
 them. Come outside. I have a lot to say 
 to-night. It will be cooler there, and talking is 
 easier under the trees." 
 
 Then he found himself walking among the 
 trees. She was on his right hand, and water
 
 198 PELICAN POOL 
 
 glimmered in the distance. Summer lightnings 
 were flickering in the skies. This night was as 
 last night had been. Last night was as the night 
 before had been. He could not believe they 
 walked together for the last time. Yet Time 
 moved out here, and Death found work to do. 
 A clumsy beetle had blundered out of the dark, 
 finding harbourage upon her fair hand. She had 
 crushed it with a little blow, and the body had 
 fallen in the grasses to wait the busybody ants. 
 How much was starting and finishing just 
 now over all the wide world? 
 
 They passed up the Pool with only a word or 
 two spoken between them, searching the water 
 when the fishes jumped, listening to the crea- 
 tures pushing through the undergrowth, staying 
 to look at strips of water starred with white 
 lilies. Her sober mood passed away as they 
 went on. Wantonly she dropped to her knees 
 and gathered up twigs to cast into the water. 
 He heard her laughter in the dark like a peal of 
 low bells. Then he found they had reached the 
 end of the Pool, and the hut was far away. 
 
 "Molly, this is the end. The water finishes 
 here. I have something to tell you. Are you 
 listening, Molly? It only takes a moment to 
 say. Good-bye. That's a strange word, isn't 
 it? Have you heard it before? Well, to-night 
 we are saying good-bye."
 
 THE PARTING BY THE POOL 199 
 
 Until the word was spoken he felt he might 
 never need to say it; but now it was said, and 
 the night had turned deaf ears on his call for 
 mercy. He saw her plainly in the dark standing 
 before him petrified, in all her wonderful beauty, 
 alert as though about to flee, with her great eyes 
 wide open looking at him. She had clasped her 
 hands together in front of her. 
 
 "What's took you now, Mr. Power? No, stay 
 there. I can hear where I am." 
 
 "Don't start, Molly ... I have something to 
 tell you. ... I didn't mean to tell you. But 
 why not tell you?" 
 
 "Stay there, Mister. Don't look like that. 
 I don't want to know. Let's go home. Don't 
 look like that. You 
 
 "Stop your sweet chatter, Molly. Listen, I 
 say. I love you. I am starving for want of you. 
 Feel my hand, Molly. It trembles like the hand 
 of a man in fever. Feel it, I say." 
 
 "Mister!" 
 
 "I am burning. I am burning inside and out. 
 Let me touch your hand. Give me your hand 
 a moment to cool me. Give it to me, I say." 
 
 "Mr. Power, don't make me cry. I don't 
 
 "I am going away. Do you hear me. I am 
 going away never to see you again. Other men 
 are to have your kisses. Your bosom is to beat 
 on the breasts of other men. My lips shall go
 
 200 PELICAN POOL 
 
 unwashed. My heart shall thump in an empty 
 drum. Do you hear me?" 
 
 "Don't talk so loud, Mr. Power. Don't look 
 like that. Mr. Power, don't come so near. 
 Please, Mister; please!" 
 
 "I am going away, Molly. I told you that, 
 didn't I, just now? I have come to see you for 
 the last time. I have Molly, all the fires of 
 heaven and hell are lighted in your eyes. You 
 are doomed to live burning men's hopes to ashes. 
 Molly, the breeze is in your hair. It flutters 
 there, as your little soul flutters somewhere in 
 your lovely body. Let me touch your hair once 
 oh, so softly it shall be. Once." 
 
 "Mister!" " 
 
 "Once." 
 
 "Mister!" 
 
 She was in his arms. He never remembered 
 how they came together. But all the parched 
 streams of spirit and body were loosed in a flood 
 of waters. He was kissing her lips. He was 
 kissing her eyes. He was kissing her throat. 
 Her hair touched his hair. Her hair was in his 
 mouth, and the sharp taste of it made him mad. 
 He began to kiss her in frenzy, until she ceased 
 to struggle and lay in his arms sobbing and 
 laughing. He crushed her to him. He kissed 
 her mouth again. He kissed her eyes again. 
 Again he kissed her hair. He kissed her brows.
 
 THE PARTING BY THE POOL 201 
 
 He kissed her throat until the red marks rose 
 in the brown skin. He pressed his head against 
 her bosom where her heart struck wildly. He 
 felt her tiny teeth against his lips. He buried 
 his face in her coils of hair. He held her two 
 hands and covered his eyes with them. He 
 kissed their palms. He laid soft kisses in her 
 eyes. He lifted her from the ground. He fell 
 upon his knees and laid her in the grass, and 
 himself fell down beside her. He interlaced her 
 fingers with his. He drew each open hand of 
 hers slowly about his cheek. He lifted her from 
 her grassy bed and pressed her to him. The 
 coarse stems of plants pushed about his face. 
 Great grasshoppers leapt from their beds into 
 the dark. The stars seemed to blink and flash. 
 He pressed his mouth to hers again, and held 
 her there through an eternity. And then he fell 
 down beside her with his face in the grasses, 
 hearing her tiny sobs, and, more tremendous 
 than that, the shrill of the insects, and more 
 tremendous than the chorus of insect voices, the 
 living stillness of the night. 
 
 After an age, he raised himself on both hands, 
 lifting his head above the grass stems. She lay 
 close by, her face turned away, and her heavy 
 hair ragged with little leaves and tiny twigs. She 
 was sobbing very quietly. It seemed to Power 
 he and she lay at the bottom of a deep pit
 
 202 PELICAN POOL 
 
 whence he and she had tumbled in headlong 
 flight from the stars. Brave boasts fled in 
 wind. Big words gone in sound. "Traitor" 
 seared in red letters across his soul. A harvest 
 to reap from this sowing. What harvest to 
 reap? Would this child learn to love him as he 
 loved her? No. He believed already her little 
 heart beat to other time than his. Well, the 
 draught had proved too bitter for his tasting. 
 He had put down the cup as it touched his lips. 
 
 He raised himself to his knees and bent over 
 her. "You must get up, child. It won't do to 
 lie like that. Crying has never mended matters 
 since the world began." 
 
 He found her hand and she answered his 
 touch, rising slowly, and presently standing up. 
 He stood beside her and tenderly picked the 
 rubbish from her hair. She stooped to smooth 
 her dress, and afterwards he kissed her once, 
 and they turned towards home. They did not 
 speak all the journey by the water; but he 
 thought the stars stared down on them like dis- 
 mal virgins whose virtue has grown strong with 
 loveless years. Sometimes he held a bough aside 
 that she might go by. At the end of a long time 
 they were by the castor-oil tree, and light from 
 the hut shone through the dark. 
 
 "Don't come home." she said. "Not to-night." 
 And she had slipped away in a moment through
 
 THE PARTING BY THE POOL 203 
 
 the trees, while he stood staring where she went. 
 
 He saddled the mare in brief space. He could 
 look into the distant lighted hut; but it was 
 empty. She was not there. He drew the reins 
 together on the chestnut's neck and gained the 
 saddle. When the mare found her head turned 
 home she started away primly at her swift walk. 
 He gave the reins to her neck. But they had not 
 put behind half a mile of the journey when the 
 steps of a second horse approached, and a 
 whinney came through the dark. 
 
 "You, Mick?" 
 
 "Hullo, boss." 
 
 They pulled up with one accord. He saw 
 O'Neill in the dark, wearing a wide-brimmed 
 hat, a shirt open at the neck, riding trousers and 
 leggings below, and long spurs strapped at his 
 heels. His happy smile had departed, and 
 Power knew he was face to face with the first 
 reaping of his harvest. 
 
 "I haven't got back yet," he said. "I went as 
 far as the big hole past the Ten Mile, and then 
 round Mount Dreary way. There were a couple 
 of mobs by the water doing right enough." He 
 came to the end of what he had to say. O'Neill 
 sat gloomily, tapping the arch of his saddle with 
 his fingers. "I looked in at the Gregory's a bit 
 on the way back," Power added. 
 
 Then O'Neill spoke. His old swagger came
 
 204 PELICAN POOL 
 
 into his bearing, and he lifted his head defiantly. 
 "Boss, do you reckon you are on the square 
 game down there?" 
 
 Anger blazed in Power's face. He felt a 
 weight upon his chest and the chords of his 
 throat tighten. But he had caught hold of him- 
 self before the words left his lips. After a long 
 moment he said almost gently: "Fast talking 
 won't do us good, Mick. It looks that the road 
 is pretty rough for you and me just now. We 
 were friends before ill-luck sat down between 
 us. It is a poor crush that won't hold the beast 
 when the branding starts." 
 
 O'Neill stared gloomily at the neck of his 
 horse. "Boss, it's no game I'm playing there, I 
 swear. It's no come-and-go affair with me." 
 
 "And how is it better for me?" 
 
 The man flashed up his head. "Miss Neville," 
 he said. 
 
 The pain in Power's face told the rest of the 
 story. A moment later Power spoke. 
 
 "A man has his life to live, and wins or loses 
 as his turn comes. One of us must finish on top; 
 but it needn't break our friendship." 
 
 "Straight wire you mean it, boss?" 
 
 "Straight wire." 
 
 He found the mare, fretful of delay, was 
 moving down the road. O'Neill had gathered 
 up his reins. Without more talk they were 
 moving each going his way.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 SELWYN HEARS SOME NEWS 
 
 THE sun climbing round the base of Conical 
 Hill at daybreak next morning, found 
 Selwyn already abroad, and in the very 
 best of humours. The gentle trickle of last 
 night's nightcap down his gullet had warmed 
 the very cockles of his heart, so he told a mud- 
 lark discussing an early worm among the 
 saplings. He was outside before the day was 
 properly alight, standing on the front verandah, 
 hands deep in pockets, legs set apart, sniffing 
 the remnants of a night breeze, which had not 
 yet fled the sun's wooing. Finding his spirits 
 insisted upon more active affairs and discover- 
 ing no prospect of breakfast for a while, he 
 picked up his stick, which he only exchanged 
 for gun or fishing-rod, and took a turn round 
 the back premises, where there might be 
 matters to occupy a fellow until people thought 
 fit to give up slugging in bed. Rheumy-eyed 
 Scabbyback, rising morosely from a sack, was 
 prodded good morning, and Gripper was 
 
 205
 
 206 PELICAN POOL 
 
 accorded even more gracious welcome, being 
 unchained and allowed to follow on the march 
 of discovery. 
 
 Selwyn called out good morning to old 
 Neville, as he passed towards the mine on early 
 business, and presently seduced into talk Mrs. 
 Nankervis as she bustled in and out of the back 
 door on the work of breakfast. He presided 
 at a difference of opinion between Gripper and 
 a blue- billygoat with the beard of the Prophet, 
 which ruled the tattered herds of Surprise. He 
 had just come to an end of everything, including 
 his good humour, when news arrived that break- 
 fast waited. 
 
 Mrs. Selwyn and Maud were already in the 
 dining-room. Hands came out of his pockets. 
 "By Jove !" he said. ''Good morning. Here you 
 are at last. It is wonderful how people like to 
 loaf in bed." 
 
 "It is the only morning you have been down 
 first for a week," Mrs. Selwyn answered sharply. 
 
 "What about 'a man's work may be early 
 begun ; but a woman's work is never done,' Mr. 
 Selwyn?" Maud said. 
 
 Selwyn changed the conversation. He put 
 on his most genial x smile. "Your father out 
 again to-day? I suppose he won't be back yet? 
 Am I to preside again, Miss Neville?" 
 
 "If you won't mind. Shall we sit down?"
 
 SELWYN HEARS SOME NEWS 207 
 
 Maud took her place at one end of the table 
 and poured out tea. Selwyn, with a good deal 
 of noise, pulled up a chair at the other end and 
 began to lift dish covers. Mrs. Selwyn found 
 her seat half-way down and prepared to be 
 as gracious as possible, in spite of feeling most 
 unequal to the task. What she endured daily 
 at this ghastly place, nobody could possibly 
 comprehend. And she had foreseen it all so 
 clearly with that capable brain of hers ! Never 
 again should Hilton overrule her. 
 
 A first inspection of dishes revealed, besides a 
 noble ham, procured from the coast in honour of 
 visitors, eggs, a wallaby stew, and lastly red, 
 rich, and done absolutely to the last turn a 
 thick piece of rump steak, beyond any doubt the 
 best bit Selwyn had ever seen since leaving the 
 South. Quietly the cover went down upon that 
 dish. 
 
 "Now, who will have wallaby stew?" said the 
 master of ceremonies, with the charm of manner 
 which beguiled so easily the uninitiated. "You 
 will have some, of course, dear?" 
 
 "I shall have nothing of the sort. I shall have 
 an egg." 
 
 "Very well, dear; but you are making a mis- 
 take. Miss Neville, you will have some, of 
 course."
 
 2o8 PELICAN POOL 
 
 "Don't pester the wretched girl with it every 
 morning." 
 
 "Of course she would like it," came irritably 
 from the president. "Wallaby is a great luxury. 
 You ought to be very glad I am able to get it 
 for you. This is the only place I have heard of 
 where they want to throw it on the midden." 
 
 Selwyn began to heap a plate. 
 
 "If I must have it, Mr. Selwyn, not so much, 
 please," Maud said. 
 
 "I don't know why yon pester everyone to eat 
 your things," said Mrs. Selwyn, continuing the 
 attack. 
 
 "I hate seeing everything I shoot wasted," 
 Selwyn replied, testily. 
 
 "Then let the dogs have it." 
 
 "No. I like seeing friends enjoy it." 
 
 "Then eat it yourself." 
 
 "I can't. It doesn't agree with me in the 
 morning." 
 
 Maud made peace by accepting the dish. Mrs. 
 Selwyn cracked an egg. Then then only 
 Selwyn uncovered the rump steak. 
 
 "By Jove!" he said. '"I'm sorry. There was 
 steak here had anyone wanted it. I am afraid 
 I'm rather late for you now." 
 
 He put the fork gently and deeply into the 
 juicy square of meat, and lifted it bodily on to 
 his plate regretfully, as though only good
 
 SELWYN HEARS SOME NEWS 209 
 
 manners persuaded him to choose the untasted 
 dish. Next, collecting round him the necessaries 
 for an ample breakfast, he settled to his task. 
 
 Breakfast over, Selwyn decided on a stroll. It 
 was too late in the day for a shot, and he could 
 take a turn with a gun in the evening. A stroll 
 was better than hanging about a house trying to 
 amuse two women. He visited the back again 
 and loosed his bodyguard. The mangy pointer 
 in its dotage sprang heavily upon him in joyous 
 good morning, and tested the weight of his stick. 
 Gripper led the van. The momentary irritation 
 of breakfast had gone, and Selwyn felt benign 
 with all the world. 
 
 Pipe in mouth, stick in hand, he took the red 
 road which turns left-handed from the office 
 door. Mrs. Boulder relinquished household 
 matters to watch him go by. The sun was rising 
 in the sky, and when he drew opposite the 
 Horrington humpy, he began to tell himself that 
 a man was looking for trouble who went for 
 walks in this country. Mr. Horrington stood in 
 his doorway, gently musing after his morning 
 custom before setting forth to win the daily 
 bread ; and Selwyn, from the roadway, sent him 
 a cheerful salute, which brought him along the 
 path to the road. 
 
 "Good day, Mr. Selwyn. You are abroad 
 early this morning. Which way are you going?"
 
 210 PELICAN POOL 
 
 "Nowhere in particular. I was out for a 
 stroll." 
 
 "Will you come along with me ? I seldom get 
 anyone to talk to. I have some business in the 
 township." 
 
 "Splendid!" cried Selwyn. 
 
 Up the road they went at steady pace, 
 Selwyn carrying his fifty years on springy steps, 
 Mr. Horrington planting his feet ponderously in 
 the dust. Mr. Horrington pulled out his pipe in 
 a little while, and found to his chagrin his 
 tobacco-pouch was empty. 
 
 "Damn it ! I find I have run out of fuel until 
 I can manage to get back to the store," he said, 
 blinking his pale blue eyes. "Would you mind 
 lending me a fill? Thanks. Ah, this is some- 
 thing like tobacco. The stuff they sell here 
 comes hard on an educated palate." 
 
 "Fill your pouch up. I have plenty at home." 
 
 "Thanks very much. I am always meaning to 
 send for some decent stuff. Yes, thanks very 
 much. I shall look forward to a luxurious even- 
 ing. Here you are. I am afraid I have rather 
 taken you at your word." 
 
 "Not at all," answered Selwyn with downcast 
 countenance. 
 
 Just before the firewood stacks, they took the 
 branch road turning to the township. The near- 
 ing hotel roof glared in the sun. Selwyn, fore-
 
 SELWYN HEARS SOME NEWS 211 
 
 seeing the inevitable, put a cautious hand into 
 his pocket for what discovery might discover. 
 The nimble half-crown rewarded his search. 
 Several malignant goats cropped the pasturage 
 at the cross-roads. Mr. Horrington eyed them 
 sullenly. 
 
 "Who owns all these goats ?" said Selwyn, put 
 in better spirits by the find. 
 
 Horrington blinked his eyes. "That is what 
 nobody knows. They walk round a man's house, 
 and break the way inside if there's a crust on the 
 place ; or get tangled in the dustbin just as a 
 man is falling asleep. You can stand all day 
 shouting for an owner, and not a soul on the 
 lease turn an ear. But if you go mad and shoot 
 one, every man and woman in the camp comes 
 running up to claim it." 
 
 "You don't care for goats?" said Selwyn. 
 
 Mr. Horrington put the back of a hand across 
 his drooping moustache. "They are charming 
 animals for little girls to fondle in books ; but 
 you have to live with them to know them. Were 
 I a well-to-do man I would keep two or three, 
 and wander down of an evening to the paddock 
 to sprinkle a little bread over them. But when 
 you must wrestle a goat round a bail before you 
 can have breakfast, the glamour wears. By 
 gad! a man soon gets hot walking these morn- 
 ings. Ah, here's the hotel. I hope you will take
 
 212 PELICAN POOL 
 
 the dust out of your throat with me. It will help 
 square our tobacco account." Mr. Horrington 
 laughed a rusty laugh. 
 
 They passed through the open doorway of 
 the hotel, turned right-handed, and went into 
 the bar. It was cool indoors after the sun. The 
 room was large and low, and full of the breaths 
 of departed roysterers ; and was empty except 
 for a battered barmaid in curl papers who dusted 
 behind the counter. Upon the floor were many 
 signs of yesterday. Selwyn felt poorly inclined 
 for refreshment. Mr. Horrington took off his 
 hat and wiped his brow, bowing good morning 
 to the barmaid, who smiled bitterly and came 
 forward. He laid his stick along the counter, 
 and leaning an elbow beside it, fell into a noble 
 pose, the outcome of a lifetime's practice. 
 
 "What's it to be, Mr. Selwyn?" 
 
 "Anything, thanks; a whisky," said Selwyn, 
 coming forward and smiling a charming good 
 morning. 
 
 "That will do for me," Mr. Horrington 
 agreed. "Two whiskys, please." 
 
 Mr. Horrington plunged a hand into his right 
 trouser pocket. Afterwards he plunged a hand 
 into his left pocket. Once more he tried the 
 right pocket. He blinked his eyes. He took up 
 the whisky bottle and poured himself out a stiff 
 peg. He shook his head at a suggestion of
 
 SELWYN HEARS SOME NEWS 213 
 
 dilution. He sipped the peg to taste its quality. 
 He seemed about to add a little more, had not 
 the barmaid put the bottle from harm's way. 
 He watched paternally the pouring out of Sel- 
 wyn's nobbier, and when it was set down ready, 
 he said pleasantly: 
 
 "I am afraid I have left every penny of loose 
 cash behind. Wretched nuisance! Never 
 remember doing that kind of thing before. I 
 hope you won't object to settling this little 
 matter now, and we can fix up between our- 
 selves another day." Leaning over, he added in 
 a heavy whisper : "They are not too agreeable, 
 here don't care to run accounts." 
 
 Selwyn had met his master. He saw it; he 
 was a wise man ; then and there he surrendered. 
 
 "Of course," he said, and brought forth the 
 half-crown. "We are up against it this morning. 
 This is all I happen to have with me." 
 
 He put the half-crown on the counter, and 
 Mr. Horrington blinked suspiciously at him. 
 
 The out-of-curl barmaid went away in a little 
 while, and Mr. Horrington suggested lighting 
 pipes and sitting down a few minutes on the seat 
 running along the wall. Selwyn, hopeless of 
 escape just then, acquiesced. They crossed the 
 floor and sat down. 
 
 "Have you a match?" said Mr. Horrington as 
 a start in matters. Selwyn obediently handed
 
 214 PELICAN POOL 
 
 over the box. "Business is very slack this year, 
 very. I find time hang heavily sometimes. 
 Practically never a man of culture to speak to. 
 I often mean to get up one or two decent books 
 from down South." 
 
 "Sorry haven't got one with me," said 
 Selwyn, counting the flies on the ceiling. 
 
 "Yes," went on Mr. Horrington, shaking his 
 head. "I have to hang round this wretched 
 rattletrap township all day. Fellows turn up 
 any time from the bush with skins to sell, or 
 samples of ore. It wouldn't do to be away. A 
 man might lose custom. But it is sickening for 
 a man of culture listening to their petty 
 squabbles and affairs. By the way, that reminds 
 me, I heard a fair shocker the other day; a fair 
 shocker I can tell you. No need to say this is 
 strictly between you and me. Of course you 
 knew Neville's girl was engaged to the Power 
 who owns this station?" 
 
 "Met him several times." 
 
 "No doubt. Not a bad chap you would think," 
 said Mr. Horrington. "Well, it is all over the 
 place now he is running a double affair." 
 
 "Eh?" 
 
 "Yes. They say the other girl is somewhere 
 on the river. A girl with striking looks. No 
 doubt that's the attraction, though I have never 
 seen any looks in these parts."
 
 SELWYN HEARS SOME NEWS 215 
 
 "What!" said Selwyn, this time coming down 
 from the flies and scowling. 
 
 "Yes, pretty sickening thing to hear. I am 
 very sorry for Neville's girl. Charming girl. 
 There seems no doubt about it. I've had it from 
 half-a-dozen sources since. Moreover the girl's 
 father was here a day or two back. Drinking 
 pretty freely. I happened to be there, and he 
 said a good deal more than I liked listening to. 
 He mentioned other names; but it's as well to 
 let them be. Nasty story. Yes, nasty story." 
 
 "Man, it caji't be true." Selwyn exclaimed at 
 last. 
 
 " 'Fraid so." 
 
 "Damn it, how beastly!" 
 
 "Yes. Fair shocker." 
 
 They talked together in the stale room for 
 some time until Selwyn grown desperate, rose 
 firmly to his feet. "Well, must be getting back. 
 Have a bit of business to do. Enjoyed our chat. 
 Suppose we shall run across each other again 
 pretty soon." 
 
 Selwyn continued to move firmly towards the 
 door. Mr. Horrington rose also. He blinked. 
 He swept the edge of his drooping moustache 
 with his tongue lest a spare drop of whisky 
 remained. He looked longingly but unprofit- 
 ably at the row of bottles on the shelves. Lastly 
 he picked up his stick as Selwyn had picked up
 
 216 PELICAN POOL 
 
 his. They went outside into the sun. Scabby- 
 back and Gripper rose from a small island of 
 shade, and Gripper trotted forward very ready 
 for the start. At the hotel entrance they said 
 good-bye. They said it soon Selwyn lifting his 
 stick jauntily in the air, and Mr. Horrington 
 blinking reply. 
 
 Good-natured kindly fool that he was, he was 
 thoroughly upset by that infernal old sponger's 
 scandal. Just his luck to be told a darned awk- 
 ward piece of news just after breakfast, so that 
 he was likely to be annoyed with it all day. He 
 was too thundering good-natured, that's what 
 he was. He must adopt another line in future. 
 Why the deuce should he worry over people's 
 affairs? What the devil was a fellow to do in 
 such infernally awkward circumstances keep 
 his mouth shut? Perhaps he ought to tell his 
 wife. She might as well know, in case anything 
 ever came of it. What's more he could shift the 
 business on to her that way. It was a woman's 
 job. They were pretty thick-skinned in that kind 
 of thing. They'd be certain to try and drag him 
 into it ; but he'd be jolly careful they didn't. 
 Yes, he was too darned considerate of others. 
 
 He reached home as he was growing un- 
 pleasantly hot. Spying Mrs. Selwyn reading on 
 the shadiest verandah, he made for her and 
 threw himself into a canvas chair close by. The
 
 SELWYN HEARS SOME NEWS 217 
 
 bodyguard flopped upon the floor at his feet, 
 and the party fell to heaving up and down. The 
 sudden assault caused Mrs. Selwyn to look over 
 the edge of her book. 
 
 "Hilton, how soon are you going to learn a 
 little consideration for others?" she said sharply. 
 "No single other man I could name would throw 
 himself and two smelling dogs down in the one 
 spot we are trying to keep cool." 
 
 Selwyn, tumbled pell-mell from high thoughts, 
 turned very sour. 
 
 "It seems a little hard that a fellow mayn't 
 crawl into the shade for a minute or two. I am 
 the only one here with sufficient spirit to take a 
 decent walk of a morning. The rest of you gasp 
 about in easy chairs expecting to be waited on." 
 
 Mrs. Selwyn made no reply and resumed her 
 reading. Selwyn and his retainers gave a little 
 time to the recovery of their breaths. Finally 
 Selwyn braced himself to his task. 
 
 "I met that old humbug Horrington on the 
 road. He gave me a pretty beastly bit of news." 
 Mrs. Selwyn again looked over the top of her 
 book. "He told me Jim Power is running a 
 double affair, and is tied up in a knot with a 
 girl somewhere on the river. A good-looking 
 girl, old Horrington said. Probably the girl 
 they joke King about. He says it's all over the 
 place." Mrs. Selwyn shut up her book and laid
 
 218 PELICAN POOL 
 
 it in her lap. Next she looked severely at the 
 flooring of the verandah. "Beastly nuisance !" 
 Selwyn followed up again feebly. 
 
 "Was he quite certain of his story?" 
 
 "Seemed infernally sure of it." 
 
 Mrs. Selwyn resumed the study of the floor- 
 ing. After a moment or two she said "I feel 
 most unwell. I think at least you might have 
 had the decency to keep it from me." 
 
 "Damn it, I thought you would be put out if 
 you weren't told. Besides you are a woman. I 
 thought you would have a suggestion to mend 
 matters." 
 
 "I shouldn't for one moment think of inter- 
 fering. It is essentially a matter between Mr. 
 Neville and yourself." 
 
 "Neville ? Damn it, don't you try and drag 
 me into it." 
 
 "I entreat you to moderate your violence a 
 little." 
 
 Selwyn said something under his breath. He 
 was getting ruffled, and don't you make any 
 mistake about it. It was the old story. He was 
 too darned infernally good-natured. Too beastly 
 unselfish. He had lived too long letting people 
 thrust their blasted wishes down his timid 
 throat. But he'd start a new tack from to-day. 
 By Jove ! yes, a new tack from to-day. 
 
 While he lashed himself into noble rage, Mrs.
 
 SELWYN HEARS SOME NEWS 219 
 
 Selwyn continued to admonish. "It is exactly 
 what I expected. The course is perfectly clear, 
 and you come running to me. And as usual you 
 try and shift the matter on to me with high 
 hand and bluster." 
 
 Selwyn had flogged himself to white heat. 
 "Here am I, a supposed big man of these parts, 
 nagged at and brow-beaten and driven to the 
 point of madness by a houseful of idle match- 
 making women." 
 
 "I entreat you " began Mrs. Selwyn. 
 
 "They can carry their own dirty linen to the 
 wash themselves. I've been the public pack- 
 animal for the last time, and I tell you so now. 
 The girl can get herself out of her own tangle." 
 
 "Do you realise the whole camp may be listen- 
 ing?" ' 
 
 "Damn the camp!" 
 
 "You ruffian." 
 
 Selwyn threw himself to his feet. "It's the 
 last good turn I try and do. Power can keep a 
 harem for what I care. I suppose you are con- 
 tent now you have driven me away?" 
 
 Mrs. Selwyn made no reply, but resumed her 
 reading. Scowling terriffically, Selwyn plunged 
 down the verandah steps, the bodyguard patter- 
 ing at his heels. There were the sounds of steps, 
 very sharp and dignified, dying away down the
 
 220 PELICAN POOL 
 
 path, followed by silence. Mrs. Selwyn closed 
 her book and proceeded to consider matters in 
 all their aspects.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 THE JOURNEY TO THE POOL 
 
 COMING up from the yard near the creek 
 where the goats were herded, Maud 
 Neville stood a moment in the darkened 
 dining-room; and, standing there, she heard 
 Selwyn begin his story. She dreamed while the 
 first words were spoken, soothed by the change 
 from sunlight to the shadows and quiet of in- 
 doors ; then understanding arrived, and she 
 stood wide-eared to the end. 
 
 Waiting by the table, clad in a cool dress, with 
 a wide straw hat upon her head, she happened 
 upon the telling of that tale, and stood listening 
 until the final word was spoken. In that space 
 life lived and done with. A book opened ; the 
 story read. Truth told which could not be un- 
 told. And she must rouse herself from day- 
 dreaming in this quiet room, for outside a sun 
 was shining, and earth still rolled through high 
 heaven. 
 
 She lingered among the shadows a little while 
 yet, while the greedy sunlight crept under the 
 
 221
 
 222 PELICAN POOL 
 
 verandah roof seeking a way to climb in. Her 
 light fingers moved among the household gods, 
 settling and re-settling them with old skill. 
 
 Give her strength to find the way into the 
 sunlight white and fiery. Winter must thaw 
 there, and these tongues of slander wither and 
 roll up black. He loved her! Who dared to 
 deny he loved her? Yet now he came less often. 
 He came with gloomy face and brow old with 
 frowns. Truth was too true ! Love had learned 
 unloving. 
 
 Stay, he loved her a little still and therefore he 
 grieved to speak the truth. He came and came 
 again that he might kill her gently, and lay dead 
 love to sleep upon its broken flowers. Let her 
 thank him for this kindness which had kept her 
 glad a little while. Surely Death thus gently 
 come was not a fearful visitor? 
 
 She shook. This was rage assailing her. Hot 
 rage, this moment. This moment, icy hate. 
 Come and gone in fierce breaths. Now storm 
 had passed away, and she stood quiet, trembling 
 a little. 
 
 Not to-day this message. Let him love her 
 once more to-night. Let him kiss back her 
 kisses, and she would be strong to-morrow. 
 
 A world rolling through its day, and she 
 dreaming in this cool room. Wake up from
 
 THE JOURNEY TO THE POOL 223 
 
 dreaming. Outside sunlight woos the red earth, 
 and bronze lizards sit upon the stones. 
 
 She showed no signs of hurt when presently 
 she came out of the quiet and began the tasks 
 set to do in the brief space of morning that 
 remained. One asked her were she tired. One 
 warned her summer was but begun, and only 
 those who started prudently would last through 
 to the end. She laughed and said she would 
 cause all to look to their laurels. When lunch 
 was ended, to prove the heat of the day had 
 small fright for her, she renounced the verandah 
 for her bedroom, and her cool dress for a habit. 
 At the last moment, when there remained only 
 the saddling, she sought out her father and told 
 him she would be a\vay until sundown. The old 
 man cocked his head to one side in dismay. 
 
 "What's taken ye, girl?" he said. "Why not 
 wait for evening and the cool?" 
 
 "I'm sick of indoors. I am going now, 
 father." 
 
 "Well, it's you to do the riding, girl, and not 
 me. Don't be stopping out after sunset and 
 scarin' us. Where are you going?" 
 
 "To the river." 
 
 The old man grunted, and she turned and left 
 the house. She saddled Stockings, the chestnut 
 with four white legs, she mounted him, and he 
 moved freely down the road, reefing a little at
 
 224 PELICAN POOL 
 
 the beginning from good spirits. She checked 
 him to a walk, and presently he ceased to fret 
 and plodded down the way with head drooping 
 lower as each mile was put behind. Presently 
 hills stood between the camp and her. Presently 
 she was far into the plain. The sun was high up 
 in the sky; the air was hot and without breeze. 
 The red hill sides glared back into the sun's face. 
 The baked bunches of spinifex pushed up their 
 spears from the ground. At the end of several 
 miles she began to fag, although all her task was 
 to sit astride this big horse. Purpose held her 
 moving along the road. The green belt of the 
 river grew up upon the horizon. 
 
 Rage and bitterness had spent their hours in 
 her heart and had passed to where such things 
 pass. Now Care came, a lonely child, to suck at 
 her breast. Came too this desire to look upon 
 that beauty which could command men to cast 
 all away and follow a desire to stare upon it 
 from her high seat on this beast. 
 
 The green belt marking the river came out 
 across the plain. The big horse carried her into 
 the shabby country which sheltered the higher 
 trees from the broad face of the land. Rubbish 
 of old floods, long run to the sea, waited in the 
 branches, and here and there high watermark 
 showed above her head. Now she rode among 
 the nobler timber.
 
 It was gentle here among the trees, where 
 quiet shadows laid their cheeks against the path. 
 A lonely bird fluted in the boughs. Water 
 peeped ahead through bending branches. It 
 seemed the Pool had shrunken much after these 
 rainless months. 
 
 Presently, when she had passed a long way 
 through the trees, she pulled up Stockings on 
 the bank and looked down into the water. The 
 face of the Pool stared back into her own, and 
 she could mark the lean fishes lolling in cool 
 places, and discover a world of weeds nodding 
 below. Last great lilies of the year bloomed 
 lonely upon the brow of the water. To right 
 hand, to left hand, the face of the Pool extended. 
 Guardian ranks of trees followed all the way, 
 bending over in many places to stare at their 
 countenances. Sunlight slipped among their 
 tops, and tumbled into the gloom of their 
 boughs, and splashed upon the water with noise- 
 less splashes. Shadows with dusky faces peered 
 round the tree trunks to know who came thus 
 to look with sad face upon the slumbers of an 
 afternoon. 
 
 She had drawn quietly to the bank, and now 
 she discovered wild birds dozed upon the bosom 
 of the Pool. Fat ducks floated, with bills laid to 
 rest in gorgeous plumes. Divers paddled in 
 loneliest places and sank among the weeds.
 
 226 PELICAN POOL 
 
 Strange birds shovelled in the hot soft mud. 
 And in .all corners melodiously hidden- 
 butcher birds called and called again, tiny birds 
 with canary breasts flitted in the boughs, and 
 sharpened their bills on the roughness of the 
 bark ; and kingfishers skimmed the water on 
 shining, whirring wings. 
 
 She laid the reins upon the neck of the big 
 horse which stood so still, and as she looked the 
 message of peace laid a quiet finger upon her 
 heart. She told herself the beautiful child who 
 had so harmed her had a home by this gentle 
 place, and so she could not be a stranger to kind- 
 ness. She would undo the damage wrought. 
 He who had wandered away after false gods saw 
 every day this fair scene, and his heart must 
 still have understanding. She turned Stockings 
 from the Pool right-handed, and threaded a w r ay 
 along the bank. She began to wonder what to 
 do when she would find herself face to face with 
 the girl. She wondered if rumour had mistold 
 of her beauty, and she grew bitter with her own 
 poor body which could ill afford challenge. 
 What would she say to this child if she had to 
 speak to her tell her to go down to the Pool 
 and there find a book printed with much learn- 
 ing? She would tell her gently she had played 
 robber, and this stranger had ridden across the 
 plain to receive back what she had lost. It was
 
 THE JOURNEY TO THE POOL 227 
 
 simple to give back where value was not. Value 
 was not? A new thought to stab. This young 
 girl who lived among the silences of the timber 
 might love too, and fight for her love with the 
 weapons of the savage. Beauty and passion 
 come to do battle against her own dowdy 
 armour. 
 
 What a coward heart she held! Here was the 
 camp coming through the trees. Did she 
 arrive on the service of love to peer and eaves- 
 drop, and to smile out of her white face while 
 rage filled her heart? Ah, there the child lived. 
 What a lowly house the man she loved had 
 stooped to knock at! Her own stout roof and 
 safe walls could not keep him. Her nerves were 
 tight drawn to-day. Stockings had whinnied 
 loud, and the blood raced to her heart. The 
 hut was not deserted. An unfriendly dog ran 
 out to challenge the approach. In a moment the 
 girl might cross the threshold, and find her with- 
 out wit or speech. Stockings neighed again 
 and was that a horse answering beyond the hut? 
 A horse was there. A horseman must be here. 
 Shame ! His horse stood there. She was near 
 the doorway. She must ride on or turn back. 
 She might be found there. Such thing must 
 never be. He might find her there, and think 
 she spied upon him. He might come outside, 
 and with him the child who had stolen him away.
 
 228 PELICAN POOL 
 
 They two might look fondly at each other. No 
 not that. 
 
 She was clumsy. She had waited too long. 
 He stood in the doorway. He was coming out- 
 side. He stood still. He had seen her. They 
 were staring into each other's eyes. It seemed 
 they could not leave off looking. They looked 
 into each other's hearts and read all that was 
 written there. His face had grown hard; he was 
 frowning, his face black. Come, she must rouse 
 herself from enchantment. She could not speak 
 to him now, and there was only left to turn 
 Stockings on the road home. 
 
 Ah, who is this come out beside him? Tall, 
 like a young tree. Who is this come to stand 
 beside him and stare out of wide eyes? Eyes set 
 under a brow harnessed with thick brown coils 
 of hair. Young and careless and lovelier than 
 all the beauty that slumbers through this 
 summer afternoon. What fields of lilies yearn 
 for her to seek them, that her slim white feet 
 may crush among their stems, and they meet 
 death from one lovelier than themselves? What 
 woods of greedy violets sigh for her to pass 
 among them that they may steal her fragrance 
 and make the world sick with a sweeter sweet- 
 ness? Ah, what a poor tongue has legend. 
 This was she whom rumour said bloomed lovely 
 by the river. Beauty born humbly, but not so
 
 THE JOURNEY TO THE POOL 229 
 
 humble that pale pilgrims did not glide through 
 the silences to lift the clapper of her door. 
 Beauty housed humbly in a shabby temple ; but 
 beauty itself not humble. The flame that burnt ! 
 Ah, rescue him! 
 
 She drew tight a rein and turned away ; and 
 as she passed again among the trees the birds 
 were fluting in the boughs and on one hand the 
 face of the waters twinkled in sunshine and in 
 sleep. Once she thought his voice came after 
 her, commanding her to wait ; but she scorned 
 to turn about lest imagination mocked, and 
 again she saw that hut set among the trees. It 
 seemed Stockings turned sluggard for this 
 homeward journey, and in rage she plunged 
 sudden spurs into his sides. He snorted loud and 
 rose high into the air, and she must lean upon 
 his wither to persuade him to earth. Thereafter 
 he turned fretful, seeking to reef the reins from 
 her hands. They passed among the trees until 
 the last ribbons of water were hidden. Hark! 
 On the edge of the timber and the empty land 
 a hurry of hoofs reached her ears. Quickly it 
 grew loud. Some madman rode. It was he 
 come after her. He would ride at her side in a 
 moment. Give her strength to meet him man- 
 fully. Fool he to seek her out now. She hated 
 him with a hate as great as the love he had 
 murdered.
 
 230 PELICAN POOL 
 
 "I called out I would ride back with you. I 
 had to saddle up. What was the hurry?" 
 
 "To tell the truth I didn't know I was needed. 
 I set out to ride alone, and thought to finish the 
 journey alone. But we can ride together now 
 if you wish. The way lies side by side a mile or 
 two. As well to practise again this art of riding 
 side by side, lest it be quite forgotten. One- 
 two three weeks, since we had last lesson. 
 And once we used half the days of the week in 
 mastering the art. Why these scowls, friend 
 Jim?" 
 
 "Come, don't talk riddles, Maud. I'm not in 
 humour to read them. If you have things to 
 say, say them now while we have the place to 
 ourselves. Say what must be said. Big words 
 can drop and break here, and lie well broken. 
 My ears are on edge for listening. But don't 
 give me riddles." 
 
 " 'Jim Power has tied himself up in a knot 
 with some girl on the river.' Soft words, Jim, 
 to have flung at me this morning. . . .Oh, how 
 could you do this?" 
 
 "Gently, Maud." 
 
 "Gently? No, any word but that. Speak up, 
 Jim. What knots your tongue? Cry at me 
 doubter, liar, shabby tattler of tales. The 
 bitterer your words, the sweeter I shall hear 
 them. Where is your tongue? Say you are
 
 THE JOURNEY TO THE POOL 231 
 
 sick with me for doubting. Say the taste of this 
 day will never leave your mouth, Jim. Frowns 
 won't feed me." 
 
 "Stop. I am at the end of what I can bear." 
 "You won't answer? Jim, it isn't true?" 
 Then fell upon those two riding side by side 
 in the radiant afternoon the majesty and the 
 melancholy of that wide red land. The little 
 sounds of passage were born and died and put 
 away forgotten. There lived upon the breast of 
 Time the sharp steps of two horses crossing the 
 rubble on the ground. There lived the clink of 
 bits when heads were tossed. There lived the 
 tiny groans of leather. And in the bunches of 
 spinifex punctual insects tuned their throats 
 against the evening. But he and she passed 
 away from all these things, and after much 
 journeying came hand in hand into some rare 
 atmosphere where they kneeled together, two 
 mourners at the bier of dead love. He who was 
 so quickly moved to anger, she who but a space 
 ago had been cold in rage, felt now only a great 
 purifying pity move through them that such a 
 fair comrade had been laid in a narrow bed. 
 Desires, remorses, rages, strifes those ragged 
 clothes his spirit must often wear were laid 
 aside on the threshold of this high wide 
 chamber, and he was re-robed in cool garments 
 for the hour of vigil. As their spirits waited
 
 232 PELICAN POOL 
 
 there, on either side of the bier where Love was 
 laid out among her fading blossoms, their bodies 
 rode across the plain, and presently the long 
 road lay before them, where she must turn right- 
 handed to Surprise and he ride left for Kaloona. 
 There they stayed a little while and spoke 
 together.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 THE HALT BY THE ROAD 
 
 SHE was the first to speak. 
 "Jim, we can't ride like this for ever. A 
 good thing if we could ! I am over the first 
 sharpness. Don't choose your words. We can't 
 ride on like this." 
 
 "No, Maud, we can't." 
 
 "Do you love her?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "How did it come about?" 
 
 "As such things come about." 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 "How do such things come about?" 
 
 "Does she love you?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "What have you said to her? Does she know 
 you care?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Ah, as far as that?" 
 
 "Since yesterday. Last night I went to end 
 things. Until then not one word had smirched 
 
 Q 233
 
 234 PELICAN POOL 
 
 me or you. I went to say good-bye. She was 
 put before me like a drink. And 
 
 "You were parched?" 
 
 The horses stood with drooped heads, muzzle 
 to muzzle. The hours were growing old, and 
 long shadows climbed across the grasses. A 
 wide hat sheltered her from the sun; but he 
 thought she looked tired and worn, and he 
 wondered which lines summer had drawn there 
 and which he had traced. Next he fell to asking 
 himself if sorrow could sharpen eyesight, for he 
 found himself looking past her body upon her 
 good spirit. It would find food for new growth 
 out of this hurt. Two years ago they had knelt 
 together and received an equal gift. What a 
 good housewife she had proved ! What a spend- 
 thrift he! 
 
 "The afternoon is nearly gone, Jim. I made a 
 promise to be back by sunset. I don't know 
 what to say. I must go on feeling for a little 
 while and then I shall be able to think. I don't 
 understand a man's love. He can put it off and 
 on like a cloak. He wears a woman's livery for 
 a season to find it shabby after that time and 
 himself in need of a newer one. You have worn 
 mine through two seasons and no doubt I should 
 be duly glad." 
 
 "Gently." 
 
 "I am raw still. Too sick and sorry to
 
 THE HALT BY THE ROAD 235 
 
 stoop about picking up soft words. No, forget 
 what I said. You have made me angry and hurt 
 and scornful, and, if you will have it, jealous; 
 but you have not the art to make me love you 
 any less. Nothing can unteach me what I have 
 learnt through you. You can never make me 
 unhappy as you have made me happy." 
 
 "What am I to say?" 
 
 "I must be going home." 
 
 "Listen to me. Because of what has 
 happened, don't think I'm such a dullard that I 
 don't know the worth of what I had. What ails 
 me ! Soon I'll be past caring. I'm at odds with 
 my shadow. I'm too full of ill humours to pull 
 myself on to a horse's back, too sick with things 
 to try a day's work. If you want revenge you 
 can be satisfied." 
 
 She saw his face grow keen with sorrow, 
 and last traces of bitterness against him left her. 
 In place arrived a great pity, and a greediness 
 to heal his hurts. She turned away, and 
 thoughtfully with her light fingers began to 
 thread the mane of the big chestnut horse. She 
 laid the hairs this way and that with care, but 
 little she knew of her work. She was thinking 
 with all her might. 
 
 She loved this man, and what was love but 
 service? She must serve him now he was in 
 such evil case. What were her wounds but red 
 lips opening in her side that they might speak
 
 236 PELICAN POOL 
 
 his wounds and tell them balm was coming 
 This was the highest hour of their love, when 
 love was to be crowned with understanding. 
 Let her be speedy and not spend all day de- 
 bating. A poor passenger was fallen sick by the 
 way, and here was she, loaded with her oint- 
 ments, who had talked much of her skill. What 
 was love but service, and she said she loved this 
 man? 
 
 "What are we to do?" 
 
 "There is nothing to do." 
 
 "Are you going home?" 
 
 "I told her I would go back." 
 
 "It's time I started home, Jim." 
 
 "Maud!" 
 
 "Don't look so serious. You are in worse 
 case than I am. I can laugh at myself and I 
 doubt that of you. Before I go, promise me you 
 will still come to Surprise. It's a sleepy place. 
 You won't find things changed there." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And now you have promised that, will you 
 come to-morrow? A square promise, fair 
 weather or black, a day's work to do or nothing 
 on hand." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Good-bye, Jim." 
 
 "Good-bye, Maud." 
 
 The old horse moved away when she gathered 
 up her reins.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 THE PARTING OF THE WAY 
 
 POWER kept his promise. The afternoon 
 sun was still high in the sky when he let 
 loose his horse in the stable yard at Surprise 
 and walked across the stones to the house. He 
 approached in view of the shadiest verandah 
 where the household had come together after 
 lunch. In the amplest chair lay Selwyn lost to 
 all the ill humours of the heat ; but Mrs. Selwyn 
 interrupted her reading to give him a searching 
 glance, and Neville shot up shaggy eyebrows 
 and cried "Hello!" Maud came down the 
 steps. She wore a big hat as protection from 
 the sun ; but she looked up to speak and showed 
 Power the lines of care that twenty-four hours 
 had drawn upon her face. 
 
 "Come this way, Jim. It's shady up the creek, 
 and there are too many inside." 
 
 They passed together a little way up the bed 
 of the creek, clambering once and again over 
 sharp faces of rock where fair pools of water rest 
 after the rains. They reached a spot where a 
 
 237
 
 238 PELICAN POOL 
 
 sapling throws a broken shade upon a shelf of 
 stone. They sat down. The prospect is gentle 
 here as prospects are judged at Surprise. Below, 
 stands the house peering round the bank of the 
 rise above, the creek climbs up into the hills. 
 
 "Well, Jim?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Come, don't look so cut up. It isn't fair to 
 me. I've spent all day looking things in the face 
 and you must help. 
 
 "I've come here as you asked. What is there 
 to say?" 
 
 "Do you still feel the same about her?" 
 
 "Yes. It will always be the same." 
 
 "We have come to the end of things. Is that 
 it?" 
 
 "It needn't be that. There is friendship left." 
 
 "Fall from first to second place? How dare 
 yon ask me that. . . . What makes you like 
 this? She has nothing more than her looks. She 
 has no education. She can have only a child's 
 experience of life." 
 
 "It makes no difference." 
 
 "And where will you be when the glamour has 
 gone?" 
 
 "It will be time to see when that happens." 
 
 "But they say she isn't even a good girl. A 
 girl must be so weak to let men do as they like 
 with her."
 
 THE PARTING OF THE WAY 239 
 
 "We have said enough." 
 
 "And what am I to do? Make the best of 
 things I can ? Take off my love like an old coat 
 and throw it away because it is out at the 
 elbows? Jim, you don't know what love is. 
 That's why this thing has happened." 
 
 "Talking won't mend things." 
 
 "There's no more to say ; is that what you 
 mean? We have come to the parting of the 
 ways. I'm to understand that, am I? The 
 house I built has tumbled on top of me, and I 
 am to get clear of the ruins as best I can. In a 
 little while this affair of yours will be over, and 
 where shall we both be? Can't you see what a 
 priceless thing we are ready to waste ?" 
 
 "Of course I see it ; but it makes no difference. 
 I was a man a month ago, able to take or let 
 alone. Now ... I love the child. There's the 
 beginning and end of it." 
 
 "We had a hundred things to help us over 
 the difficult bits of life and now because you are 
 tired I am asked to feel the same. That's where 
 the laugh comes in. I find I can't do it." 
 
 "What a cad you make me!" 
 
 "'She doesn't love you. You told me that 
 yesterday. How are you going to get over 
 that?" 
 
 "She may change." 
 
 "Have you thought what I have to face?
 
 240 PELICAN POOL 
 
 'There goes Maud Neville who was found want- 
 ing and now takes second place to a girl whose 
 lips are plastered with the kisses of a dozen 
 men.' Some day the words may not seem much ; 
 just now, my friend, they have a harsh sound. 
 How dare you bring me to this?" 
 
 "Would you have us marry as things are?" 
 
 "No, I wouldn't. I must eat my humble pie. 
 But as yet I cannot make myself believe that we 
 are at the end of things. It's not easy to speak 
 out the truth even to you. I ought to cut you 
 for good. But I just can't do it. Love takes a 
 lot of killing. The world will think me a girl of 
 poor spirit; but better that than that this thing 
 should come to grief in haste. I must have time 
 to think things out. I owe this to you and to 
 myself. . . . What are you looking at the sun 
 for? Do you want to get away?" 
 
 "I have to meet O'Neill at three o'clock." 
 
 "Meet him at three so as to be in time some- 
 where else later on I suppose that's it. Well, 
 so be it." 
 
 "Are you coming to the stable?" 
 
 "No. I'm going to stay here a little while. 
 Jim, this mustn't be our good-bye. Before you 
 go, promise me you won't quite forget us here. 
 Come when you can." 
 
 "Good-bye." 
 
 "Good-bye."
 
 CHAPTER XVF 
 SUMMER DAYS 
 
 IN this far country spendthrift November used 
 up one by one its days. Each fiery noontide 
 pulled the sun a little higher into the sky. His 
 way was set in a wide field of blue, where seldom 
 came one timid cloud to loiter an hour and float 
 fearfully away. The season of the rains drew 
 near; but as yet was no sign of the storm wrack, 
 which drifts up evening by evening and drifts 
 away a herald of the deluge which presently 
 shall burst upon the land. Night, hot and 
 passionate, followed night, hot and passionate 
 each night roofed with high white twinkling 
 stars. The Scorpion was falling from his lofty 
 place, and Orion carried his sword and belt up 
 from the horizon. 
 
 In the mornings of those long November days 
 as the eight o'clock whistle blew shrill from the 
 engine house, the men of Surprise Valley des- 
 cended into the bowels of the hills, there to drive 
 and to stope, to put up their rises and put down 
 their winzes, to employ hammer and drill in the 
 
 241
 
 242 PELICAN POOL 
 
 damp places and in the hot places, to push their 
 trucks, to set their fuses, to batter with their 
 spluttering machines until the day was worn out, 
 and the five o'clock whistle called them to the 
 surface. A strange land theirs of gloomy tun- 
 nelled ways; a land of shadows dancing before 
 moving candles ; a land of roofs which dipped 
 and soared; a land of grim, cheerless walls and 
 floors, patched with damp, where black holes 
 opened out and ladders led up and ladders led 
 down; a land of changing colours as here and 
 here the green copper looked out from its hiding 
 place. In such a country lived the men of Sur- 
 prise Valley between the two whistles of the 
 day. 
 
 At the house of Mr. Neville, manager of Sur- 
 prise, November was accepted with small com- 
 plaint. Many a dawn of day, every set of sun 
 found Selwyn striding like an honest man into 
 the bush. Lean and pinched he showed at early 
 morning, hat tilted jauntily forward, cigarette 
 end pushed out below his clipped moustache, 
 trusty gun under hooked right arm. Leaner 
 still he looked at evening, as he followed his long 
 shadow across the ground, marching towards a 
 gully in the hills, where one might blunder on 
 the Lord knew what kangaroo, wallaby, or 
 even a python. A python, be Gad ! at one's very 
 back door!
 
 SUMMER DAYS 243 
 
 Each November morning Mrs. Selwyn, after 
 privately counting off one more day to 
 departure, took a book to the verandah, and sat 
 in the cool to read a little and observe a good 
 deal more. She was discreetly watching for 
 evidence of the truth of Hilton's news. It was 
 more than likely that he had got hold of the 
 wrong end of the stick ; still it was worth while 
 discovering if there was anything in the story. 
 If there was truth, the girl certainly had no ink- 
 ling of the matter. She looked a little tired and 
 worried now and then; but this impossible 
 country would wear anyone out. It was a 
 shame to think of her buried here indefinitely. 
 She must think about asking her down for the 
 summer. Thank goodness half the stay was 
 over. Their rainy season began next month, 
 and she was going to make certain of not being 
 cooped up here then. 
 
 Of that household only Maud Neville found 
 November more miserly of the hours than 
 October. She was living her tragedy alone. 
 
 She explored the frailties of the human spirit 
 found the heights it could climb in a 
 courageous hour, and followed it down into dark 
 ways. It seemed angel and devil waited on her, 
 clanging in turn for entrance. When she opened 
 to the kind spirit she grew careless of her own 
 hurts, and only was glad that she loved a man
 
 244 PELICAN POOL 
 
 who was in trouble and whom she might have 
 skill to help. When the demon came in at the 
 door he whispered her she was a woman who 
 loved a man, and who had been loved by him 
 once -upon a time. Now, with lips which had 
 kissed her, the man kissed the robber who had 
 stolen him away, and held that robber in the 
 arms which once supported her. At such times 
 she cried she was learning to hate this turncoat. 
 If presently he would come riding up to sit be- 
 side her with long face, she would cry, "Begone 
 to your child who bids you click and unclick her 
 gate." 
 
 One terrible minute spent at this time with 
 her father, more than all her resolutions, saved 
 her from the melancholy which was falling upon 
 her, and determined her to carry abroad again 
 an untroubled face. She stood in the dining- 
 room before lunch, trifling the moments away, 
 when the old man stamped in, hat cocked to one 
 side, pipe in mouth, heavy walking-stick in 
 clutch. He was flushed from the sun and short 
 of breath ; but he blundered to the attack. 
 
 "Hey, Maud, what's this that's running round 
 the place ? Jim Power playing the double 
 business with you. In a mess with that girl of 
 Gregory's. I may be wrong, but I reckon I 
 know how to settle that kind of thing. I may be 
 wrong, huh, huh! No man plays fast and loose
 
 SUMMER DAYS 245 
 
 with a girl of mine. I'll have the blackguard 
 
 kicked off the lease next time he " The old 
 
 man came to a standstill. 
 
 She had shown him a face grey with rage. 
 Her words were colder than drops of ice falling 
 upon snow. 
 
 "How dare you come in like this, father, 
 blustering your way into a business where you 
 have no concern ! Jim and I can keep our house 
 in order, and our very best thanks to you. How 
 dare you come in like this, father, without 
 apology to us?" 
 
 The old man took his pipe from his mouth the 
 better to meet the attack. His shaggy white 
 eyebrows bristled. "Goodness ! girl, don't lose 
 your head like that. I heard wrong, I reckon, in 
 the town just now." He put back the pipe in his 
 mouth and gathered confidence. "Well, that's all 
 to be said about the matter, Maud, only a bit of 
 news to remember is nobody plays the game 
 of do-as-you-please with my daughter. I may 
 be wTong, huh, huh !" Then he scrambled about 
 and went out of the room. 
 
 While the slothful lips of November counted 
 away the days if at that time Maud plucked all 
 the strings of the lyre, and sounded high melody 
 and awaked rough discord ; if she fingered all 
 the stops of feeling, the man she loved made 
 music no less wild. As hope shuttered her lodge
 
 246 PELICAN POOL 
 
 behind him, as despair came as neighbour to his 
 street, he grew careless of opinion, thoughtless 
 of the future, and with an appetite eager only to 
 lap clean the dish of the present. Love was 
 revealed as a light, blinding him who looked 
 there to all but its brightness. As he stumbled 
 towards it, calling out loud for a veil, it moved 
 away. All his hurry and loud cries brought him 
 no nearer, as a man may climb mountain upon 
 mountain and never reach the stars. 
 
 As he grew mad, he grew wise with a cheer- 
 less wisdom. He rode to the river; he rode 
 away; again he rode to the river. To-night he 
 held in his arms the child he loved, and 
 covered her with kisses. To-morrow he would 
 hold her thus again. But ever Love fled him as 
 he came. Ever Love turned in flight to mock 
 him. Ever Love danced away on rosy toes. 
 Strange teaching this that a man can own the 
 House of Love, and stamp adown the house 
 from garret to cellar, and not on one couch find 
 Love awaiting him. This child would lie in his 
 arms through long minutes, would kiss back his 
 kisses at his command, and press back his em- 
 braces and all the passion spent on her passed 
 over her, as when the clouds open on an autumn 
 day, and the sun runs across the waiting field. 
 As he sealed her eyes with kisses, behold they 
 were sleepy with dreams another had laid there ;
 
 SUMMER DAYS 247 
 
 as he stopped her mouth with his mouth, the 
 taste of another's lips sweetened her own. Who 
 knows that if her shallow little soul had cried to 
 him then down the distance that his spirit might 
 not have found sight and seen the poor thing it 
 pursued. So Love might have wearied in the 
 chase. But because this small thing fled him, 
 he must snatch up his torch to follow, and 
 among the high shadows of its leaping fire, 
 surely one was the shadow of the thing he 
 hunted. 
 
 He grew a tattered hermit of the woods who 
 said good-bye and stole back as the night 
 grew old to glide among the trees and watch the 
 light fall from her doorway. Hither and 
 thither he passed, that he might hear her laugh 
 from here, that his ears might woo her voice 
 from there, that now her shadow might cross 
 the window as ointment for his eyes. The 
 flying-foxes saw him at his watch, and high 
 above the tree tops white stars stared down. 
 
 The light would go out in her hut, and for a 
 little while the ghost of a light would peer 
 through the pale wall of her tent. Did she pray 
 in those few moments as she robed herself for 
 sleep? Was she kneeling in that poor tent at 
 her rough bed, vestured in white with her 
 shining hair fallen unlooped about her? Did 
 her straight white narrow feet push under the
 
 248 PELICAN POOL 
 
 hem of her gown, with toes bent upon the surly 
 ground? Did she remember him in the little 
 prayers that fluttered up to God? Did she 
 whisper a man loved her, who was in sore need 
 of help? No. In her brief life she had scarce 
 heard the name of God. Her rich body was her 
 prayer. 
 
 Hush ! The light behind her wall is quenched. 
 She is folding herself for sleep. The stars lift 
 their thousand candles above her. The forest 
 shall be the posters of her bed. These great 
 bats fluttering across the dark shall carry her 
 kind dreams from utmost places. Hush! 
 Another pilgrim comes among the waiting 
 trees, but not to stay like him with lean face 
 peering among the trunks. This pilgrim steals 
 into the open and raises the soft doorway of that 
 darkened chamber. See her go in with warning 
 finger, poppies wreathed about her hair, poppies 
 climbing up her staff. She has gone in, and on 
 the drowsy lips of that young child has placed 
 the largest poppy of all to rub out his rough 
 kisses of the day. 
 
 Aye, now the child sleeps, and no longer need 
 he creep wakeful here, fingering the rough bark 
 of trees, and stepping clumsy on loud twigs. He 
 can take himself home, and from his own 
 tumbled bed shout loud on timid Sleep to 
 remember him.
 
 SUMMER DAYS 249 
 
 Sweet child who lies secure there, where now 
 is your little soul fleeing? What ripe field does 
 it find for its walks? What wide-armed trees 
 hold out their shade to meet it? What flowers 
 lift up their perfumed cups to spy who passes? 
 What painted birds cast out their crystal notes 
 from bush and briar to hail it? What purple 
 hills pile up behind to hide the shabby land 
 where by day it is compelled to dwell? Sweet 
 child, in pity tell this tattered watchman that he 
 may lace winged sandals to his feet, and in a 
 brighter country sweep forward in the flight.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 THE ERRAND TO THE POOL 
 
 ON the afternoon of the last of those 
 November days Maud Neville chose 
 again the road to Pelican Pool. She had 
 learned of Power's banishment until dark to a 
 corner of the run, and so might take the way 
 without fear of a meeting. Time, if a slow 
 leech, was proving of service, and misery had 
 been exchanged for a jog-along content. 
 
 The picture was discovering its proportions, 
 and, from the chair of justice, she could examine 
 it and pronounce verdict. It was crudely drawn 
 when studied thus. A man ran crying for a 
 prize which he would throw away as soon as 
 gained. He demanded the meagre thing 
 because it stayed out of reach. There was 
 humour in the picture if one was in the mood to 
 see it. 
 
 To-day an idea had come, building itself to 
 shape during the morning. As a result, when 
 lunch was over, she had saddled the chestnut 
 horse again and taken the road to the river. 
 
 250
 
 THE ERRAND TO THE POOL 251 
 
 As she left the stable, Mr. King crossed to the 
 office. He waited for her in the path, and she 
 pulled up the horse. 
 
 "Aren't you very energetic so early in the 
 day?" 
 
 "One has to do something for a change, even 
 if one becomes energetic. Life is rather like 
 those travelling shows that find the way here 
 sometimes. You have to clap and laugh loud 
 in case you yawn your head off." 
 
 "I would sooner yawn than clap on a day like 
 this. Where are you off to?" 
 
 "Somewhere. Anywhere. As the spirit shall 
 move." 
 
 She felt friendly towards this man, who stood 
 wrinkling his face at the sunlight a little slow, 
 a little stout, and rather middle-aged. He too 
 was tangled in this stupid net. Could he have 
 guessed it, she was in no better case than he. 
 He might have guessed it. The laugh might be 
 his as much as hers. 
 
 "Sometimes life moves fast enough to pre- 
 vent one yawning," he said. 
 
 "So you have told me lately. Then you still 
 look for copper by Pelican Pool? You are a 
 good miner, Mr. King. You follow the lode to 
 its end." 
 
 "Did you think the fool ever learns from his 
 folly?" he said.
 
 252 PELICAN POOL 
 
 "As much as the wise man garners from his 
 wisdom." 
 
 "What, the sage is the fool grown old and 
 bloodless?" 
 
 "Why not the spectator who leaves the arena 
 to watch from the box." 
 
 "But will he seek the box, before he has lost 
 in the arena? First, must he not be broken by 
 the other wrestlers, and come second in the foot- 
 race?" 
 
 "Perhaps so, Mr. King." 
 
 "I must get under the tree, here. The sun 
 never agrees with me after lunch. That's 
 better. Now I am ready for your profoundest 
 philosophy. Have you any for me?" 
 
 "Mr. King, I want you to be serious for once." 
 
 "What do you want ?" 
 
 "Now don't be angry. Do you think it right 
 to run after this girl? She is very young." 
 
 "Right? There are no such things as right or 
 wrong." 
 
 "I said be serious." 
 
 "I am serious. There are no such things as 
 right or wrong. Mark me the virtuous one, 
 Find me the sinner. Some are born godly a 
 fig then for their virtue. Some have no wish for 
 narrow ways. Who shall point a ringer at them? 
 Some struggle and win or lose. They who win 
 have been lent strength where then their
 
 THE ERRAND TO THE POOL 253 
 
 virtue? They who lose were denied aid. Where 
 is their vice? Foolish human souls all of us, 
 given the hopes of angels and the bodies of 
 beasts." 
 
 "Fine big words, Mr. King." 
 
 "And if virtue exists, where is its reward? 
 Does the gardener turn his spade from the worm 
 that tills his garden. Does the fowler cast less 
 wide his net lest he trap the song bird that 
 soothed him overnight. The old ox to the 
 shambles. The old horse to the knacker." 
 
 "Come, I am not to be bluffed. Don't you 
 think you ought to leave such a child alone?" 
 
 "But why must I let be and others go on? 
 Besides, her arms are very wide." 
 
 "How can you talk like that, Mr. King. I 
 thought you were fond of her. You have made 
 me angry now." 
 
 She drew the reins together and Stockings 
 passed at a fast walk across the plain. Presently 
 the green belt of the river had risen out of the 
 horizon, and later they had come among the first 
 trees. As she was carried into the nobler timber, 
 and saw the ribbons of water among laced 
 boughs, and met the pleasant play of light and 
 shade, and felt the cooler ways, and heard the 
 call of birds in hidden places, the charm of this 
 quiet spot beside the river affected her magic- 
 ally as it had done three weeks before. Indeed.
 
 254 PELICAN POOL 
 
 this time she felt better able to face circum- 
 stance. Then she had been an untried soldier, 
 firm enough of purpose, but one whom the first 
 whistle of bullets had shocked. Three weeks of 
 war had proven her. 
 
 She rode to the edge of the water. She found 
 the fair scene had no whit altered unless the 
 margin of the Pool had shrunken unless the 
 great white lilies had tired of blooming, and 
 slept now beneath the water until another year 
 should revive them unless the sun, climbed 
 higher in the sky, stared down more unkindly. 
 
 After a space spent thus, with Stockings 
 standing beneath her like a rock, she turned 
 over what was to be done. She frowned a little 
 and nursed her lip. It was not a pleasant 
 errand she had come on, nor one with a begin- 
 ning easy to find. She had come to talk with the 
 girl that lived here, and bring her to a decision. 
 She must give Jim yes or no. Let her have him 
 if she wanted ; but let her say so. This could 
 not go on. His character was being sapped 
 away. Let the girl take him and he would have 
 what he wanted, or let her send him away and 
 he must pull himself together. It did not matter 
 to her Maud. Things had gone too far. The 
 worst had been over a long time, and she could 
 look the future in the face. She was sure she 
 did not care now as acutelv as once she had
 
 THE ERRAND TO THE POOL 255 
 
 done. She would do him this kindness for old 
 times sake, and then she must begin to put him 
 out of her life. But it was a hateful business. 
 She might meet scorn at the girl's hands 
 worse, Jim might hear of her errand and think 
 she was willing to throw pride away, if by hook 
 or by crook she could clutch back his affection 
 Well, love must go on many services, and the 
 trusted servant travels always by unkindest 
 ways. 
 
 She ordered Stockings forward, and he 
 backed from the edge of the Pool into the trees 
 and followed the bridle path where soon the 
 camp would discover itself. The gentle birds 
 piped them down their passage. The hut came 
 out among the trees. It looked mean and 
 shabby from long wooing by the weather. The 
 hessian walls were drooping and the tents had 
 crumbled. 
 
 She pulled up the horse before he had carried 
 her from the shelter of the trees. She was dis- 
 turbed again as to what to do. She must pre- 
 tend to come that way by chance. And how do 
 that? She might ride up to the door and ask 
 for a cup of water. And then father or mother 
 might open to her. Well, things would happen 
 as they would happen, and wit was the serving 
 man to enlist. 
 
 When she was ready to give Stockings the
 
 256 PELICAN POOL 
 
 signal to advance, he lifted his ears. She 
 followed their direction and discovered she was 
 watched. Next instant she found the 
 watcher was the girl she had come to find. The 
 child must have gone among the trees to gather 
 dead branches for firewood, and now stood there 
 among the trunks, as still as they, staring at her 
 boldly. The figure might have been a dryad 
 pausing on the instant before flight. Its loveli- 
 ness wounded her as though a dart had been 
 cast at her. Who could look upon such beauty 
 and after be content with less? She touched 
 the flank of her big horse, and he carried her 
 across the space still to traverse. He came to 
 full stop when she tightened the reins. 
 
 She must be the first to speak. The girl had 
 stood unmoved the while, looking her boldly in 
 the face. She wondered if she guessed her name 
 from hearsay. 
 
 "That must be hot work for the middle of the 
 day. It would have waited for evening. But 
 I'm setting no better example, am I, riding about 
 the country like this? I was glad to find these 
 trees." 
 
 She looked the girl over from head to foot. 
 She judged her to be eighteen years old or no 
 more than nineteen, but a flower which had 
 come quick to bloom. She looked her over with 
 uncharitable eyes, but nowhere found fault. She
 
 THE ERRAND TO THE POOL 257 
 
 gave up the task to tell herself never had she 
 seen such beauty. The girl returned stare for 
 stare. 
 
 "I was gettin' a few sticks together," Moll 
 Gregory answered. "Dad went off without 
 chopping a thing this morning, and we've run 
 short." 
 
 "Are you in a hurry to be back with them?" 
 
 "No. Why?" 
 
 "I've made myself hot. This looks a nice 
 place to spend a minute or two. Will you keep 
 me company a little while? I must soon go on." 
 
 Maud dismounted, the better to push matters 
 forward. As she patted the old horse she looked 
 about for a seat. A fallen tree lay at hand, and 
 she dropped the reins upon the ground and sat 
 down upon it. Moll Gregory stood where she 
 was, her eyes wide open. It seemed solitude had 
 not taught her to be shy. It occurred to Maud 
 she must not delay. At any moment the father 
 or mother might come out of the doorway and 
 opportunity be gone. 
 
 "You have a lovely place to live in," she said. 
 "But you must find it out of the way. It's a long 
 fag to Surprise." 
 
 "It's a treat for us. There isn't too much 
 doing round here." 
 
 "I dare say. But loneliness has not kept you 
 quite hidden. You are better known than you
 
 258 PELICAN POOL 
 
 may think. I had heard of you before we met 
 to-day. You are Moll Gregory, aren't you ? You 
 know a friend of mine. Mr. Power, of Kaloona. 
 He told me about you once. He said he had met 
 you in his travels." 
 
 The eyes which looked at her big with 
 curiosity fell asleep all in a moment. But the 
 change made their loveliness no less lovely. 
 
 "Yes, I know Mr. Power." 
 
 "I'm a great friend of his. We have been 
 friends a long time. Almost brother and sister. 
 We tell each other most secrets." 
 
 She wished the girl would say something. But 
 instead, Moll Gregory continued to stand before 
 her, beautiful and sulky. It was the sense of 
 hurry in the matter that found her courage to 
 go on. "Yes, we are pretty staunch friends," 
 she said desperately. She took courage in both 
 hands. "He told me how fond he had become of 
 you lately." 
 
 "Mr. Power is a poor sort of feller to go 
 running about with tales." 
 
 The insult brought speech crowding into her 
 mouth. "When you know Mr. Power a little 
 better you will find him to be no very expert 
 merchant of stories. Friend to friend is an 
 honest enough matter. And as a matter of 
 
 fact " She stopped. She had not courage 
 
 to say she had been her own bloodhound.
 
 THE ERRAND TO THE POOL 259 
 
 "Well, and what about it?" 
 
 ''I suppose there's not much to say about it, is 
 there, since it's no affair of mine ? But I hear 
 my friend has little enough to be glad over, for 
 it seems you don't care much for him. I'm his 
 friend, and so I'm sorry. That's all." 
 
 "He thinks that, do he?" 
 
 "And is it true ?" 
 
 "That's my business, isn't it?" 
 
 "It's nobody's business that I have ever heard 
 to let a man make himself miserable, and for his 
 pains give him neither no or yes." 
 
 "A girl don't always ask a man to come crying 
 after her. You don't expect a girl to nurse every 
 man that runs at her skirt." 
 
 "There is such a thing as kindness." 
 
 Moll Gregory shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 "Don't think Mr. Power sent me here to 
 plead for him. He can look after himself in 
 most cases I have found. But I am so great a 
 friend of his that it distresses me to see him so 
 unhappy. The quicker he is sent about his 
 business the sooner he will find cure. I hate to 
 interfere ; but it was for old acquaintance sake 
 I came along to-day to ask you to help me put 
 things into better shape. I tell you Mr. Power 
 is a changed man this last month. It hurts me 
 keenly to see him come to this." 
 
 "I will tell him the worry he's givin' you."
 
 260 PELICAN POOL 
 
 "You must never say a word about this visit." 
 
 "Why not? You are a kind friend." 
 
 "You must not say one word." 
 
 "Not say Miss Neville called? The Miss 
 Neville as was going to marry him." 
 
 She could have cried aloud at the hurt, and 
 the next moment a cold courage possessed her. 
 "You cannot hurt me like that," she said in a 
 level voice, "and I have done my best to take 
 care of your feelings. True, I am engaged to 
 Mr. Power, and we should have been married 
 had he not become fond of you. I have spent a 
 good many unhappy hours lately, as no doubt 
 you suppose ; but no anxieties of my own would 
 have brought me here to haggle and bargain. 
 That might have happened when I lost my head 
 in the beginning; but I have had long enough 
 to look things in the face and accept what must 
 be. Understand me then, I am still fond of 
 Mr. Power in spite of what has happened and I 
 want to do what I can to help. If you have ever 
 loved a man, you will believe me. If you don't 
 know what love is, you will have to think as you 
 like, and I suppose I shall be none the worse or 
 better for the verdict." 
 
 "There's others have been in love besides you, 
 Miss Neville. There's others have had their 
 kisses." 
 
 "Kisses! I mean something more than kisses.
 
 THE ERRAND TO THE POOL 261 
 
 When you are older you won't weigh love by 
 kisses. You will find love grows deeper down 
 than the kisses that stop in the doorway of your 
 mouth. You will find love sending you on 
 errands like this one I am come on to-day, and 
 you will be grateful enough to run them, though 
 all you buy is rudeness and scorn. Love is a 
 queer plant when you sow it properly. It makes 
 shade for some one man, and you find yourself 
 glad to sit in the open and watch it grow. 
 Come, I am talking wildly again." 
 
 "Have him if he's to be got. I'm not break- 
 ing my heart what comes." 
 
 "Don't let us quarrel. I know you've not 
 asked for my visit. I shall be glad enough to 
 find it done ; but we have come together, and let 
 us see together a little while. I have made a 
 bad beginning. I meant to speak gently." 
 
 Moll Gregory turned away inpatiently. It 
 seemed they had come to a deadlock; but help 
 was at hand. There were the sounds of steps, 
 and a man of moulting appearance with tools 
 upon his shoulder came out of the trees towards 
 the hut. He was passing out of their direction, 
 but he threw a glance over his shoulder before 
 going far on the way. He saw them at once, and 
 stopped. 
 
 "Hullo, Moll, gel, out of doors? And a visitor, 
 too. Why, it's Miss Neville from Surprise." He
 
 262 PELICAN POOL 
 
 came across at a clumsy, fawning run. "It's 
 Miss Neville, and I'm very pleased to meet you. 
 You may have heard of me from the old gentle- 
 man your father. As nice an old gentleman as 
 one would meet in a day's work. Miss Neville, 
 to be sure, doin' us this honour. Miss Neville 
 come our way." A dirty hand was pushed for- 
 ward. Gregory began to hump his shoulders, 
 pluck his beard and swell his chest. "Well, Miss 
 Neville, and what can have brought you all this 
 way in the heat?" 
 
 "I was passing and thought it looked cool 
 among the trees. But I must be away again. 
 I've rested long enough." 
 
 Maud moved towards the horse ; but Gregory 
 became more friendly. "You won't be gettin' 
 back yet. Miss Neville? Oh, no, Miss Neville, 
 we can't let you go. The missis is inside there. 
 Moll here can get tea going in a minute. 
 Mother! Are you there?" 
 
 The woman came out of the house, and stared 
 in their direction. 
 
 "Miss Neville from Surprise has come our 
 way. You can give her a taste of tea, can't yer? 
 Come inside. Miss Neville. Yes, we folk will 
 be in a bad way when we have no seat for Miss 
 Neville. A-haw, haw, haw! A-haw, haw, he, 
 haw!" 
 
 "No thanks, I'm sorry. I must be going at
 
 THE ERRAND TO THE POOL 263 
 
 once. If I am round these parts again I won't 
 forget to call and find out who is at home. I 
 must be going at once. I'm sorry to look so 
 rude." 
 
 "Come, Miss Neville, it's not many visitors 
 ride our way. We've not much to offer, but its 
 our best when you comes. The show has gone 
 down into a hundred foot of rock, and store- 
 keepers aren't too flash with tick just now. But 
 there's always our best for Miss Neville." 
 
 There seemed a press about the horse, but 
 Maud was firm in purpose and mounted. She 
 hated the greedy face of the man. She liked no 
 better the lovely features of the girl. She was in 
 a rage with herself for considering the under- 
 taking. The man and the woman in the door- 
 way of the hut were exchanging glances at her 
 back. 
 
 "Good-bye," she said, as she drew together the 
 reins. "You mustn't think me rude, but I have 
 to get along." 
 
 She would have walked over the man had he 
 not stepped out of the way.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 THE BOTTOM OF THE VALLEY 
 
 WHEN the same afternoon had worn to 
 evening, Power rode down to the river. 
 His comings and goings at the hut 
 passed unremarked. Gregory kept always 
 ready his loud welcome, and his wife asked no 
 questions and made no difficulties. 
 
 Power arrived every evening at sunset, and 
 spent by the Pool the first hours of dark. For 
 this end he endured the remainder of the day. 
 He walked now on the very bottom of the valley 
 into which he had descended. He rode no more 
 to Surprise, and, calamity on calamity, he was 
 losing Mick O'Neill, his friend. Gloom bestrode 
 a third horse when they rode together on the 
 work of the run, until by one accord they sought 
 each other out as little as need be ; and in mute 
 agreement came to visit here, the one when the 
 other should be gone. 
 
 The sun had gone down on the edge of the 
 plain when Power reached the Pool. As he 
 entered the trees darkness was falling, and the 
 
 264
 
 THE BOTTOM OF THE VALLEY 265 
 
 stars were coming out. When the horse 
 brought him into the clearing the lamplight 
 looked from the doorway of the hut in a broad 
 beam and voices met him from indoors. He 
 tethered the beast in an old place and put the 
 saddle on end at the foot of a tree. Before he 
 had done Moll Gregory was standing in the 
 doorway of the hut. 
 
 "Is that you, Jim?" 
 
 "Yes, Molly." 
 
 He went across to her. Father and mother 
 were within. Gregory swung on his seat in 
 anxious welcome, and the woman nodded good- 
 night. The four of them talked together for a 
 little while. 
 
 "Round agen to see us?" cried Gregory. 
 "Been about the run to-day I reckon from the 
 look of you. Hot work moving about in the 
 middle of the day. It don't seem to cool off at 
 night now. The rains must be coming." 
 
 "It looks like it," Power answered. 
 
 "Have you heard what's happened?" said the 
 woman. "The boss here ran into Mr. King 
 yesterday. Mr. King won't touch the show 
 since it went into the hard stuff, and says the 
 boss owes him twenty quid or something and 
 has a paper to show it." She turned bitterly on 
 Gregory. "You always was a fool rushing to 
 sign things."
 
 266 PELICAN POOL 
 
 "I had to keep going somehow, mother." 
 
 Moll raised her head. "I'll fix it, dad, when 
 he's round next." 
 
 "I suppose things aren't too good lately?" 
 Power said. 
 
 "I reckon they aren't. Since the show turned 
 out a fake, there's not a bob to be raised any- 
 where. They're turning up tick at the store, 
 too. They growl if you ask for a tin of dog." 
 
 "I reckon, Dad, Mr. Power might give us a 
 hand until things was better, if it was put to 
 him," said the woman. 
 
 "Is that what you are after?" Power answered. 
 
 "A-haw, haw, haw! We wouldn't say no if 
 you made the offer," said Gregory, showing his 
 dirty teeth. 
 
 "I'll think about it." 
 
 "There's a gentleman for you, mother! Put 
 it here, Mr. Power." Gregory pushed out a 
 dirty hand. 
 
 "It's early yet," Power answered from the 
 doorway. 
 
 Presently Power and Molly were wandering 
 among the trees the night fallen upon them, 
 dark, hot and murmurous with tiny voices. 
 
 They wandered along old ways, and said again 
 old sayings, and did again old deeds. Who shall 
 answer why she was ready to wander with him 
 night by night through these majestic ways.
 
 THE BOTTOM OF THE VALLEY 267 
 
 taking his kisses, lying within his arms, and 
 caring nothing for him? Lips set upon lips 
 no more could his kisses mean to her. Perhaps 
 she had grown so lonely that she could bid no 
 one begone. Perhaps twenty years of that hot 
 land had set in flames her little heart. Perhaps 
 it was her doom to fan fever and make men mad. 
 Why did he come and come again, a threadbare 
 lover, the despised even of himself? Why was 
 he so unwearying with his embraces, unless it 
 was because he had become an amorous wander- 
 ing Jew, who had scoffed once at pure lips, and 
 must now kiss for ever, and for ever fail to set 
 passion afire. 
 
 They sat down presently on a fallen tree lying 
 among the climbing grasses at the upper end of 
 the Pool. Night by night he and she from their 
 seat there had remarked the margin of the water 
 shrink from them. To-night they sat down 
 again he to wonder at his madness, she to do a 
 hundred wanton acts to tease the dog, to toss 
 boughs upon the water and hark to the sudden 
 splash. 
 
 "Molly, what did you mean just now when 
 you said you would make things right with Mr. 
 King? Twenty pounds is twenty pounds to him 
 and always will be." 
 
 "Aw, I didn't mean much. I know how to 
 fix him. That's all."
 
 268 PELICAN POOL 
 
 "Child, you don't have dealings with him now. 
 do you? You told me you never saw him." 
 
 "I can't help it if he comes. He's not this 
 way too often." 
 
 "What terms are you on with him? Tell me 
 the truth," 
 
 "It's not to do with you, I reckon, what our 
 terms are. I've been kind to you when you 
 asked me." 
 
 "You don't understand. All men are not like 
 me. I sit here night by night hanging my 
 hands, too fond of you to do you harm. But 
 
 other men . Tell me. I won't be angry. 
 
 Has he ever persuaded you too far?" 
 
 "A gel only lives once. You told me that 
 yourself." 
 
 "Molly! If half the world comes knocking 
 on your door must you let them all in?" 
 
 "You could have had as much as him. Wake 
 up, Jim. There's news for you." 
 
 "I don't feel like news just now." 
 
 "We had a stranger round these ways to-day. 
 Guess who." 
 
 "I am a poor guesser." 
 
 "Guess." 
 
 "Man or woman?" 
 
 "Woman." 
 
 "I don't know a woman to come all this way.
 
 THE BOTTOM OF THE VALLEY 269 
 
 Not Mrs. Elliott, forgotten to-night's supper, 
 and climbed on to a horse?" 
 
 "Miss Neville." 
 
 "Maud!" 
 
 "Her." 
 
 "Well," he said coldly after a moment. "What 
 have you to tell me ?" 
 
 "There's nothing to tell. I thought it news 
 for you, that's all." 
 
 "She must have ridden this way for a change. 
 She often rides." 
 
 "She came to see Moll Gregory, and she saw 
 Moll Gregory." 
 
 "What is it you are wanting to tell me? Be 
 quick if you mean to say anything." 
 
 "That's not the way to ask for news." 
 
 "Very well. We won't discuss her further." 
 
 "You and she is too grand for us poor people. 
 She came here on a like high racket to ask me 
 to give you yes or no, and she tells me it's not 
 on her account she's come; but because she is 
 sorry for you. She says if I have loved some- 
 body I'll know what she means. I can count a 
 feller for every feller of hers." 
 
 "That's enough." 
 
 "What's enough?" 
 
 "Enough said. We've talked enough of this." 
 
 "Turning sulky now. Miss Neville will be 
 kind to you if you go back."
 
 270 PELICAN POOL 
 
 "Molly, there's a good child, don't tease my 
 temper any more. We'll talk of what you like, 
 but forget this one thing. Why should I say a 
 word in her defence? How does she need it, 
 who is so far from our reach that you can't 
 understand her, and I haven't the skill to price 
 what I have lost? If you want to learn what 
 love is go to her with your lesson books. All I 
 have done has been of no account. You and I, 
 child, could kiss on and on for ever, and with 
 us all the crying lovers who count love a mere 
 spending of kisses; and all those kisses kissed 
 would fly up in the scales when what she had to 
 bring was laid in the other balance." 
 
 He fell into a sudden black mood an evil 
 habit he had learned lately. He remembered 
 he sat upon the fallen tree, and at his feet in the 
 coarse grasses lay the loveliest woman he would 
 ever look upon. The night was shrill with tiny 
 voices, and endless lightnings opened and closed 
 the skies, but for the time these things did 
 not affect him. 
 
 It seemed he was coming to the bottom of the 
 cup whose rim his lips had held for so long. The 
 last drops were against his mouth and the sedi- 
 ment was on his tongue. And, lo! it appeared 
 as if some virtue in the sediment quickened the 
 eyesight of the spirit, for at last he could point 
 a finger and say there was substance and there
 
 THE BOTTOM OF THE VALLEY 271 
 
 shadow. Lo! what he had once thought sub- 
 stance was now revealed as shadow, and what 
 he had believed shadow was assuredly sub- 
 stance. 
 
 He woke up when the child laid a hand in his 
 own. "Say something, Jim, or I am going 
 home." He kissed her very gently and started 
 to talk to her. But from that hour his passion 
 began to die.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 THE SELWYNS RETURN SOUTH 
 
 NOVEMBER counted away its days, and 
 tramped down the long stairs of Time. At 
 its heels arrived December. Now was 
 Summer at last begun in this far land. 
 
 Seven days of every week a fiery sun rolled 
 through a wide, high, empty sky. Seven noons 
 of every week discovered that sun mounting a 
 little higher. All day long the roofs of the iron 
 houses glared across the distance, and the walls 
 answered hot to the touch. But Surprise and 
 all that lies within its gates was not dismayed. 
 Evening by evening, when the sun was getting 
 to bed, frowning clouds banked upon the 
 horizon, and Mrs. Boulder, Mrs. Bloxham and 
 Mrs. Niven, gasping in the doorways of their 
 humpies, looked southward and said the rains 
 were coming. And Boulder, Bloxham and 
 Niven put an eye to the roof here, and an eye 
 to the wall there, and thoughtfully picked up 
 hammer and twine. But always in the morning, 
 
 272
 
 THE SELWYNS RETURN SOUTH 273 
 
 when the sun rolled out of the East, the least 
 cloud had fled away. 
 
 Round went the wheel of affairs at Surprise 
 Valley. The whistle blew shrill at eight o'clock, 
 and the waiting cage emptied the men into the 
 dark ways of their subterranean world. Over- 
 head the women bustled about their doors, and 
 the children, grown a little browner and a little 
 harder, pattered about the burnt places and sent 
 abroad their calls. Mr. Neville, manager, made 
 his tumultuous early round. Mr. Horrington, 
 general agent, made his nine o'clock march to 
 the hotel. The teams groaned in with firewood. 
 The weekly coach rolled in and out again. The 
 same goats examined once more the same 
 thread-bare strips of ground. The same long- 
 tongued curs dropped down in familiar patches 
 of shade. 
 
 Early in December Mrs. Selwyn put her foot 
 down finally and to good purpose. She would 
 not be cooped up in this desperate place with a 
 prospect of presently drowning. If Hilton 
 would not come he could stay behind and take 
 the consequences ; but she was going by the very 
 next coach. How they would survive the 
 journey in this heat was beyond her powers of 
 comprehension. Landing her here without an 
 idea for getting her away was exactly what 
 Hilton was capable of.
 
 274 PELICAN POOL 
 
 Selwyn bowed to his wife's decision. Here 
 he was, asked to pack up traps for home just as 
 the river was at its lowest and there was some 
 thundering good crocodile shooting to be had. 
 Soft-hearted fool that he was! 
 
 As a result there fell about a great packing up 
 of rods and guns, and a strapping of trunks; 
 and a grey December dawn found the Neville 
 homestead up and awake and hard engaged 
 upon the utmost business of departure. A fire 
 kept vigil in the kitchen, conjured there by Mrs. 
 Nankervis who had forsaken bed to speed a 
 favourite guest. There was coffee in the dining- 
 room, and a generous breakfast of bacon and 
 eggs, though Mrs. Selwyn could not touch a 
 thing. Fortunately Selwyn was better able to 
 prepare against the rigours of the day. 
 
 Breakfast proved an uneasy meal, disturbed 
 by comings in and goings out, with Selwyn 
 wandering between the window and the table, 
 and Neville strolling round, stick in one hand 
 and coffee cup in the other. 
 
 "Well," said Selwyn presently, feeling con- 
 siderably better now he could boast a decent 
 lining to his stomach, "you people have given us 
 a first-rate time here, and you wouldn't have got 
 rid of me yet had I my way. Gad! I'm a 
 different fellow." He smiled benignly on the 
 assembled company, and presently met Maud's
 
 THE SELWYNS RETURN SOUTH 275 
 
 answering smile. "Some day we may have the 
 good luck to find the way here again. In any 
 case we are soon to see you down South I 
 hear?" 
 
 "I promised to come next month." 
 
 "I wish we could tempt you too, Mr. Neville," 
 Mrs. Selwyn said. 
 
 "Eh?" said the old man, jerking about. 
 "Thanks, but I've no time to be running round 
 the country." 
 
 "Yes," said Selwyn, taking hold of the con- 
 versation again. "I think perhaps I shall be 
 wise to have another go of marmalade and toast. 
 There's nothing like starting a journey well 
 supplied. A couple of months back I couldn't 
 touch a thing. Not a thing. Now I feel another 
 man. I " 
 
 "Haven't you a little pity for us at this hour 
 of the morning?" Mrs. Selwyn enquired. 
 
 A terrific frown settled on Selwyn's face. 
 
 "I was listening," said Maud. "I was very 
 interested." 
 
 Selwyn beamed again. 
 
 "You had better get on with the toast then," 
 said Neville, "or ye'll be waiting another week. 
 The fellow doesn't like keeping his horses hang- 
 ing about. He'll be away without you. I may 
 be wrong. Huh, huh !" 
 
 Mrs. Selwyn scorned a buggy, and insisted
 
 276 PELICAN POOL 
 
 upon walking to the coach. The clock pointed 
 the final minute. Selwyn dodged to the back 
 premises to say his most charming good-bye to 
 Mrs. Nankervis, and with the last hand-shake 
 slipped the smiling sovereign into her clasp. 
 After something of a to-do he brought the dogs 
 round to the front where the rest of the party 
 waited, and they set out upon the journey to 
 the coach. Mr. King had turned a deaf ear to 
 the amours of bed and joined them upon the 
 road; and the company made a bold line ad- 
 vancing across the drowsy distances of Surprise. 
 
 Day had arrived, but the sun still delayed its 
 arrival. 
 
 "It seems perfectly incredible to be awake in 
 this place and not see the sun," said Mrs. 
 Selwyn. 
 
 Selwyn shook his head in deep appreciation 
 of himself. "You had my example." 
 
 The day was still in swaddling clothes; but 
 already the men and women of Surprise were 
 waking up. Surly fires were growing here and 
 there. Mrs. Boulder was in time to peer from 
 her doorway at the backs of the retreating com- 
 pany; Mrs. Niven stopped her discourse to 
 Niven as she heard voices across the distance ; 
 and Messrs. Bullock and Johnson, who were out- 
 side their camps at a morning wash, stayed in 
 the towelling of their faces to view the noble
 
 THE SELWYNS RETURN SOUTH 277 
 
 sight. It was the week for the visit of Mr. 
 Pericles Smith, travelling schoolmaster, and his 
 two tents stood erect and stiff by the side of the 
 way. As the party of five marched by, a 
 woman's voice was raised. 
 
 "Perry, aren't you very late this morning? 
 There was not a stick of wood chopped last 
 night." 
 
 From the other tent came answer: "In one 
 moment, dear." 
 
 "Ah, Perry, you are not wasting time at that 
 rubbish, already?" 
 
 But this time came only a groan and the 
 sound of someone rising to his feet. 
 
 The harmony of excursion was nowise upset 
 until the party had arrived within near view of 
 the hotel, before which stood the ancient coach 
 and the five goose-rumped horses asleep in the 
 traces. Then Selwyn, on the flank, started back. 
 The eyes of all turned to the doorway of the 
 hotel. Mr. Horrington stood upon the step, 
 stick in one hand, empty tobacco pouch in the 
 other perhaps a little seedy, perhaps a little 
 depressed, because of the early hour; but firm 
 in the intention of giving his friend bon voyage. 
 
 Selwyn's hand glided towards a pocket and 
 there found comfort. 
 
 "Be Gad!" he said, "I expected to slip to
 
 278 PELICAN POOL 
 
 covert behind his back, and here he is standing 
 at the mouth of the earth." 
 
 "You ask for the loan of half-a-crown," said 
 Neville, jerking his head. "He, he ! Huh, huh, 
 huh!" 
 
 Mr. Horrington lifted his stick in majestic 
 salutation. "You didn't expect me, I dare say. 
 However, I had no intention of letting an old 
 friend slip away without a handshake." He 
 laughed his rusty laugh. He recalled suddenly 
 the empty tobacco pouch in his hand. "Here's 
 the result of coming away in a hurry. I neglected 
 to replenish this morning. Five minutes ago I 
 was thinking of stoking up the first pipe of the 
 day when I saw what had happened. How about 
 the loan of a pipeful? I am always covetous of 
 a dip into your pouch, Mr. Selwyn. Really, I 
 must get the address of your tobacconist before 
 you are off." 
 
 Then indeed it seemed that Mr. Horrington 
 led that party of three men through the door- 
 way of the hotel, and later that Mr. Horrington 
 drank three times at the expense of other 
 people. Later still, when the quartette came out 
 into the open, where the sun's rim was climbing 
 over the horizon, it seemed that Selwyn's eye 
 was shining and himself full of a sudden energy, 
 that Mr. King stepped more briskly than was
 
 THE SELWYNS RETURN SOUTH 279 
 
 his wont, and that old Neville's laugh was a 
 trifle loud. 
 
 Time would not listen to delay, and there 
 arrived the final moments. The Selwyn luggage 
 was strapped secure beside the mail-bags, and 
 Scabbyback and Gripper now found an un- 
 charitable seat atop there. Joe Gantley climbed 
 into the driver's seat and shook the team awake, 
 when they changed to other legs and dropped 
 their heads once more. Mr. Horrington ran his 
 tongue along the edge of his moustache again. 
 Joe Gantley picked up his whip, put it down. 
 picked it up a second time, and gave the signal 
 for passengers to mount. 
 
 The company gathered close beside the coach. 
 There arose many exclamations and much 
 shaking of hands. Last thanks were said. Last 
 promises were made. Last advice was given. 
 Mrs. Selwyn mounted without misadventure 
 beside the driver. She still felt most unwell. 
 She did not know whether she was on her crown 
 or her toes. Selwyn took his seat at the end of 
 the room, and discreetly and regretfully elbowed 
 the way into a good position. Everybody gave 
 more last advice. Mrs. Selwyn nodded her head 
 graciously and finally. Selwyn smiled his most 
 charming smile. Maud laughed. Neville 
 chuckled. Mr. Horrington raised his stick 
 augustly. King called out good luck.
 
 280 PELICAN POOL 
 
 Joe Gantley drew the reins together and 
 cracked his whip. The team jerked into wake- 
 fulness and fell into their collars. The coach 
 jerked forward. Mrs. Selwyn and Selwyn jerked 
 forward. Scabbyback and Gripper jerked for- 
 ward. There were a tapping of hoofs and a 
 groaning of wood, and the coach rolled towards 
 Morning Springs. 
 
 "Well," said the old man looking after it, "I 
 may be wrong, huh, huh! but I reckon we can 
 get along without them. I may be wrong, huh, 
 huh !" 
 
 Such was the manner of the Selwyn going. 
 
 Even as the coach rolled over the first mile of 
 the journey, and grew pigmy in the distance so 
 that the loitering dust cloud concealed it even 
 as it bumped across the outskirts of the camp 
 the crimson sun cast savage glances across the 
 valley, slashing the iron roofs to life, livening 
 the dingy walls of humpies and tents, and woo- 
 ing the first flies from sleep. Over all the camp 
 breakfast fires were growing, and men and 
 women moved in and out of doors on the primal 
 matters of the morning. 
 
 December, following the teachings of 
 November, began to spend its days, holding 
 them out one by one and tossing them into the 
 mouth of Time. Each day proved a little longer 
 and a little hotter to the people of that
 
 THE SELWYNS RETURN SOUTH 281 
 
 courageous camp. But though the season drew 
 presently towards the height of the summer, 
 Power found the days too short for the journey 
 to Surprise. 
 
 While Maud lived her life at Surprise and 
 gave events into the keeping of Time, Power 
 still rode to Pelican Pool, but his passion was 
 near its end. As his brain cooled, as his malady 
 abated, he comprehended his position with 
 tragic clearness, and saw the high price of what 
 he had thrown away. His wealth was spent on 
 other wares, and he could not hope to buy it 
 again. So be it. He had chosen a bed of thistles 
 because the flower had seemed soft and gracious, 
 and he would lie on it without complaint. And 
 still he rode day by day to the river. 
 
 December grew middle-aged, and every sun- 
 set painted once more the swelling cloud wrack 
 in the South, until the evening arrived when Mr. 
 Horrington borrowed from the staff messhouse 
 the single boot-last of Surprise, borrowed from 
 the engine driver a piece of leather belting, 
 borrowed from elsewhere a hammer and 
 cobbler's nails, and sat down to re-sole his boots 
 against grievous days.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 THE FAREWELL BY THE HUT 
 
 THERE dawned at last a day hotter and 
 longer than any the summer yet had sent. 
 With break of morning banks of sullen 
 clouds were rolling out of the South into an 
 empty sky. The sun sulked overhead, showing 
 a fitful fiery face, and the air rose steaming from 
 the ground. Little winds came out of the South, 
 blew brief nervous breaths, and like silly spend- 
 thrifts wore themselves to death. Before even- 
 ing was come, the men and women of Surprise 
 had stood again and again in their doorways to 
 eye the sky, to snuff the air, and to declare the 
 rains must break before morning. 
 
 In the teeth of these warnings, when after- 
 noon wore out to evening, and dark came down 
 to shroud the stifled day, when in the high sky 
 not one star could find a porthole to look 
 through, Power rode down to Pelican Pool. 
 Kaloona, as well as Surprise, had read the signs 
 of the heavens, and Power judged the storm 
 would burst before dawn. Dark had fallen half- 
 
 282
 
 THE FAREWELL BY THE HUT 283 
 
 an-hour when he guided his horse among the 
 trees by the river. 
 
 He drew rein on the edge of the clearing in 
 the timber, and from his seat in the 'saddle 
 looked across the open. Through the doorway 
 of the hut, in a long bright beam, the light 
 came to divide the dark. Molly sat upon a box 
 in the doorway against a background of light. 
 Black she seemed, and around her was a 
 radiance of light, and outside the light waited 
 the steaming dark. She sat in a reverie, her 
 elbows on her knees, her chin in her hands, and 
 when the sounds of the horse reached her, she 
 gave no sign other than calling out, "Is that you, 
 Jim?" 
 
 "Yes, Molly." Power took the saddle from 
 his horse, and came into the eye of the lamp. 
 The hut was empty when he glanced inside. 
 "Alone to-night, Molly? Are they over at the 
 shaft?" 
 
 "No, they went to Surprise this morning. 
 They reckoned to be home by dark. I thought 
 you might be them. Maybe Dad is soaked. 
 Mum takes a drop times, too." 
 
 "They had better be back soon if they mean 
 to be back dry. The rains are here at last." A 
 mutter of thunder began very far away. 
 "Listen!" 
 
 Power took off his hat and tossed it on the
 
 284 PELICAN POOL 
 
 table in the hut. His dress was a shirt wide 
 open at the neck, and his sleeves were rolled up 
 above his elbows. But the night grew hotter 
 moment by moment. Molly, on the box, kept 
 her chin in her hands and stared out into the 
 dark, and he felt no more talkative than she. 
 He leaned back against the doorpost. As he 
 did so a second mutter of thunder began very 
 far away. The trees were wrapped from sight 
 in the dark. Not one star peered from the sky. 
 
 "What's the matter, Molly? Have we left 
 you too long alone? Your little tongue has 
 gone to sleep, thinking there was no more use 
 for it to-night." She did not answer, and 
 he thought she shivered. He bent down this 
 time and spoke sharply. "What's making you 
 shiver, child? You have not a touch of fever, 
 have you? You had better wrap up quick and 
 get away from the open." 
 
 "It isn't fever." 
 
 Something in her voice made him stoop down 
 until they were face to face. "What's the 
 matter? You are changed to-night." 
 
 "Aw, nothing is the matter." 
 
 She would not look round, and must stare on 
 into the dark. Power sat on his heels on her 
 right hand. He lit a pipe and waited for the 
 strange mood to pass away. He was damp with 
 perspiration, and the sultriness of the night
 
 THE FAREWELL BY THE HUT 285 
 
 rested on him like a weight. Then he heard a 
 voice. 
 
 "The old dog died to-day." 
 
 "Bluey?" 
 
 "Yes, Bluey." 
 
 "Bad luck for Bluey. He was very old." 
 
 "I reckon I shall miss him." 
 
 "Did you bury him?" 
 
 "I couldn't find the shovel. I chucked him in 
 the trees over there. Dad can fix him to- 
 morrow." 
 
 "Is that what you have been thinking of all 
 to-night ?" 
 
 She ignored him again. The light from the 
 doorway showed every line of her perfect pro- 
 file, and by putting out a hand he could have 
 touched the hair lying about her brows. Though 
 he looked upon her beauty every night, he never 
 found it grow less wonderful; but now he dis- 
 covered with a curious sense of shame that he 
 contemplated it with the calm born of dying 
 passion. He would never see again so rare a 
 work of art as this casket, but alackaday ! he had 
 opened the lid, and the delicate thing was 
 empty. 
 
 "Jim, I was glad when you came along. It 
 made me feel queer to leave the old dog 
 stretched out over there. Do you reckon it true
 
 286 PELICAN POOL 
 
 folk sometimes feel in their bones what is to 
 happen?" 
 
 "What have you got in your head, child?" 
 
 "Maybe I am talking moonshine; but I can't 
 get the notion off me that I won't be long 
 following the old dog." 
 
 "Don't talk nonsense, Molly." 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders in the brief 
 fashion he found so charming. The growl of 
 thunder came a third time from the distance, 
 grumbling louder and enduring longer than the 
 claps which had sounded before, and on the echo 
 of this final rumble a feverish breeze sprang up, 
 and wooed the hair upon her forehead and laid 
 a kind breath against his cheek. Power looked 
 in the track of the storm and saw only the black 
 sky. He began to doubt if the burst would wait 
 for midnight. He wanted to rouse the child into 
 better spirits, but himself must first summon 
 courage to shake off the oppression of the night. 
 Now she was speaking again to herself as 
 much as to him. 
 
 "Maybe it isn't hard to die. The old dog was 
 curled round quiet and easy when I found him. 
 Sometimes when I get fair sick of hearing mum 
 and dad and of doin' the same old things, I think 
 it easier to be dead than to start to-morrow." 
 She broke without warning into low, charming 
 laughter. "When we have sat a few weeks in-
 
 THE FAREWELL BY THE HUT 287 
 
 side there with the rain coming through every 
 crack of the roof and each of us fair tired of 
 looking at the other, we'll reckon it a better 
 game to be dead than alive." 
 
 "Wise men say there is another life to be lived 
 when this one is done with, Molly." 
 
 "I've heard that story before, Jim. There 
 was a parson round our ways once with a pack- 
 horse. He reckoned there was more business 
 when we had done with this place. I got him 
 talking, for I hadn't seen a feller for a month. 
 But I expect there isn't too much in the tale. 
 What do you think, Mister?" 
 
 "Why Mister again?" 
 
 "Jim." 
 
 "If there is, let us hope we make less muddle 
 of things next time." 
 
 "Phew ! it's hot. See the lightning. You will 
 have a wet skin to go home in. No, I don't 
 want to die yet. Some things don't happen too 
 bad. I'd be sorry not to ride a horse again or 
 to go fishing or to hear the birds. It isn't too 
 bad of a morning when the sun first comes over 
 the plain, and it isn't too bad to hear the noises 
 in the scrub of a night." She stopped to smile. 
 "And I don't want to say good-bye to you 
 fellows." 
 
 "So you like us just a little bit after all?" 
 
 For the first time she gave up watching the
 
 288 PELICAN POOL 
 
 dark and looked round at him out of grave eyes. 
 He was startled at their solemnity and 
 wondered what she was going to say. She laid 
 a hand upon his arm. 
 
 "]im, you and me are near come to the end of 
 things, aren't we ? You aren't always fretting to 
 kiss me now as you was. I reckon soon you will 
 be quite through with me." 
 
 "Molly!" 
 
 "Yes, it is true." 
 
 He said nothing, but presently he moved 
 beside her and put an arm about her. She was 
 staring into the dark again, and he laid his cheek 
 against her cheek, and they looked* together in 
 the direction where the storm was rolling up. 
 
 "It is time to talk about things, Molly, and 
 there is nobody to disturb us. When the rains 
 come, this riding to and fro will have an end. 
 What is to become of us all tell me, child? 
 Time never stops, you know. Life never stands 
 still. And it looks, doesn't it, as if a man or 
 woman can never go back, can never stay still 
 even, but must go on ? A long while now three 
 men have come day by day to offer you all they 
 have, but not to one of them have you yet 
 nodded your head. I wish time knew how to 
 stand still, so that we could have stayed as we 
 are for ever, as though love like some enchanter 
 had touched us with his wand; but time is in a
 
 THE FAREWELL BY THE HUT 289 
 
 hurry, and I think at last you must choose one 
 of us and send the others gently about their 
 business. Molly, whisper it. Who is it to be?" 
 
 "If you was a girl that lived alone all day with 
 only an old dog as mate, you wouldn't find it 
 easy to shake your head when a man said he 
 liked you. Why are you always thinking and 
 worrying so? Why don't you let things be?" 
 
 "It is time, it is not me, who won't let things 
 stand still." 
 
 "Jim, talk straight with me. You are through 
 with me, aren't you?" 
 
 "Molly, I would ask you to marry me, but I 
 know we wouldn't be happy very long." 
 
 He felt her take her cheek away as though he 
 had startled her. Presently, when she spoke, 
 her voice was more gentle than he had ever 
 known it. 
 
 "You are a good fellow; but it don't make any 
 difference, nor make me think other of what I 
 know. You have come to the end of me, and it 
 is only because you are a good fellow that you 
 talk of marriage. There's no need to worry over 
 what has gone by. Kisses don't last long after 
 they are kissed, and a girl wouldn't come to 
 much harm with such as you." She laughed 
 again. "Fancy me the wife of the boss of 
 Kaloona. Mum and dad have been rowing me 
 about it since the start. You are a good fellow
 
 290 PELICAN POOL 
 
 to come here with a long face and talk about 
 marriage, but you always was a bit soft and 
 none the worse for that." 
 
 While she was speaking the breeze wore out 
 in a final timid flutter, and the heat returned to 
 the night, and then, while he sat there acknow- 
 ledging with a certain grim humour her words 
 left him unmoved, he felt her nestle against him. 
 
 "I would not marry you if you wanted, but I 
 will give you a kiss instead, for I know you are a 
 straight fellow, and that is not forgetting what 
 has happened with you and Miss Neville. Come, 
 Mister, look this way." % 
 
 He bent his head and they kissed where the 
 beam of light clove the dark, and it seemed to 
 him there was less passion and more fondness 
 in that kiss than in all the kisses they had kissed 
 before. Presently he took his lips from hers, and 
 she laid her head upon his shoulder. 
 
 "What has made you so kind to-night, 
 Molly?" 
 
 He was forgotten again. She was looking 
 into the dark as though her sight pierced it and 
 regarded something beyond. He could see only 
 the outline of her head; but in imagination he 
 looked into her eyes which were sleepy with 
 dreams. A flutter of wind sprang up again in 
 the South a flash of light opened and shut the 
 heavens there followed a row-de-dow of
 
 THE FAREWELL BY THE HUT 291 
 
 thunder. The sudden commotion no whit dis- 
 turbed her; but a moment after she was speak- 
 ing. 
 
 "Mister, I've got a queer feeling. It won't let 
 me be. Something is going to happen." She 
 shivered again. "Do you reckon there are 
 things that come and go, and we can't see 
 them ?" 
 
 "No, silly child. We have behaved badly to 
 you. We left you alone all day, and your littlfe 
 brain, which was not meant for hard thinking, 
 has been run away with by big thoughts. Come, 
 we still have our talk to finish. We are to 
 tell the truth to-night, and the time has come 
 for you to choose one of us. Whisper me the 
 name .... Molly, I am waiting for it .... 
 Molly .... Then I shall have to tell you. 
 Mick is the name that tangles up your tongue." 
 
 "Poor Mr. Power." 
 
 "I have always known." 
 
 "And now you are glad." 
 
 "Are you going to marry him, Molly?" 
 
 "Some day maybe." 
 
 "He is a straight man, child. You couldn't 
 choose a straighter one." 
 
 Once more the wind had fluttered itself to 
 death. She lifted her hair from her brows to 
 cool her forehead. 
 
 "It will be a real old man storm and the roof
 
 292 PELICAN POOL 
 
 isn't too good. Mum and Dad will be at it 
 to-morrow as soon as the rain conies through. 
 See the lightning that time ?" 
 
 Now, in a mysterious way, the night began to 
 cool, and a rush of wind leapt up and swept 
 towards them from the distance. It broke upon 
 the timbered country with a loud cry, clapping 
 and clashing the boughs together. And 
 presently it plucked at the hair of his head and 
 snatched at the folds of her dress. And then it 
 had swept by, leaving the night cooler for its 
 passage. 
 
 "What are you thinking of, Molly?" 
 
 "That was how you liked me, and now it has 
 all blown away." 
 
 "Don't talk like that." 
 
 "When are you going to see Miss Neville?" 
 
 "I never see her now. Things have become 
 muddled past straightening out." 
 
 "But you will be seeing her soon, I reckon?" 
 
 "No. I tried to sit on two stools, and I have 
 fallen between them." 
 
 She laughed gently, and put a hand into one of 
 his. "Why are you so stupid sometimes? You 
 are always so fond of questions. It is my turn. 
 Jim, you are in love with Miss Neville, aren't 
 you?" 
 
 "Yes, Molly." 
 
 "Then what's wrong?"
 
 THE FAREWELL BY THE HUT 293 
 
 "A good deal seems to be wrong, child." 
 "When you sit there with a long face, I can't 
 help teasing you. I reckon you haven't learnt 
 too much about girls yet. There's something I 
 can tell you, and don't frown and scowl at once. 
 Miss Neville was round these ways again this 
 afternoon. Don't look like that. I said." 
 "Go on, but be kind." 
 
 "I won't tell you why she came nor what she 
 said ; but I didn't take her up short this time. I 
 was glad to see her, for the old dog dying had 
 made me lonely. When she was going away, she 
 asked if I was marrying you, and I thought to 
 do you a daddy turn at last, for sometimes you 
 are a good fellow. I told her you was through 
 with me, and that you wanted her again only 
 you was too high and mighty to go back. This 
 is straight wire, Jim." 
 
 Silence fell between them. All the while now 
 lightning opened and shut the dark, and a 
 grumble of thunder sounded in the sky. Molly 
 was the first to break the spell. 
 
 "It's getting late. You had better be making 
 home. The storm will bust soon by looks of 
 things, and you'll be washed off the road." 
 
 "I don't like leaving you by yourself." 
 
 "You'd better get. Dad and Mum will be 
 back soon." 
 
 "Perhaps you are right, Molly."
 
 294 PELICAN POOL 
 
 They rose and walked together to the horse, 
 which he saddled. He did not unhitch the rein 
 from the branch. Instead, he turned and drew 
 Molly close against him. 
 
 "I shall never forget you, whatever happens 
 to us. I shall always remember you as some- 
 thing very lovely and evasive. Whenever I see 
 a tree in blossom, I shall think of you with a 
 lantern in your hand. Whenever I see a star 
 fall down the sky, I shall think of the first kiss I 
 gave you. But, child, it is time we gave by our 
 kissing. Your kisses are for someone else, and 
 I must ride my own roads. We shall often see 
 each other again, but this must be our real good- 
 bye." 
 
 "Jim!" was all she said, though she leant 
 closer to him. 
 
 They kissed their last kiss by the shrunken 
 margin of Pelican Pool. The cloud wrack 
 blotted out the stars; but the trees lifted wide 
 arms above them. They kissed their last kiss 
 in the heat and passion of the young night, while 
 the flying foxes glided on quiet wings over the 
 tree tops, arid the insect armies fluttered on 
 their many errands about the dark. As Power 
 felt her lips laid against his own, he experienced 
 a surge of regret and thankfulness regret for 
 what this summer madness had cost him 
 thankfulness for the widened vision he had
 
 THE FAREWELL BY THE HUT 295 
 
 gained. Presently he took his lips from her lips, 
 and bending again, laid a chaste kiss upon her 
 forehead. Then he had drawn himself from her 
 embrace, and had taken the bridle rein in his 
 hands.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 THE COMING OF THE RAINS 
 
 THE storm burst in the middle of the night. 
 A rush of wind came with a high call out 
 of the South and tore at the hessian walls 
 of Surprise with multitudinous fingers. It fell 
 with upraised voice upon the timbered country 
 of Pelican Pool and swung together the heads 
 of the trees. It leapt in rage upon the staunch 
 homestead of Kaloona so that the timbers 
 groaned beneath the buffet. There blazed 
 through the dark a sheet of light and the ghost 
 of day stood an instant naked and trembling. 
 There sounded a roar of thunder. And at once 
 the sky was torn from end to end to let down 
 the rains. 
 
 The waters struck the iron roofs of Surprise 
 and Kaloona with the shock of a cataract. They 
 flogged the bleached walls of the tents. They 
 lashed the ground, tearing the small stones 
 from the soil. Ever and again lightning ripped 
 in shreds the dark and thunder pealed in the 
 skies. The wind came and went in giant claps. 
 
 296
 
 THE COMING OF THE RAINS 297 
 
 The minutes wore out without any wearying of 
 this rage. 
 
 A sheet of water crept about the face of the 
 country, exploring and claiming the hollows of 
 the land. Tiny torrents tumbled wherever the 
 ground was broken. Dry creeks woke to life 
 and swept upon the journey to the river. The 
 grasses were beaten to the ground. The sap- 
 lings cowered and wrung their limbs. And ever 
 new lightnings tore the dark in pieces, and 
 thunders cracked in the skies; even the voices of 
 drumming waters called in the dark in answer 
 to the shouting of the wind. 
 
 The storm thrust a way into the tenderer 
 places of Surprise. It pushed through the 
 patches in the canvas roofs, and crept through 
 the crevices of the walls, streaming across the 
 floors while Mrs. Boulder, Mrs. Niven and Mrs. 
 Bloxham, wakened from sleep, peered upon it 
 from their beds. 
 
 Said Mrs. Boulder, putting forth a heavy hand 
 for the matches and nudging Boulder awake. 
 "Stow that, man, and get to it. There's some- 
 thing doing, I reckon." 
 
 Mrs. Niven, striking a match upon like scene, 
 lifted up dolorous voice. "Are you never goin' 
 to raise a finger to help me, but'll stay snorin' 
 there till the place falls in atop of us? There
 
 298 PELICAN POOL 
 
 won't be a dry inch in another half hour, an' not 
 two sticks of wood chopped, I've no doubt." 
 
 Over all the camp dismal lights flicker up 
 behind the walls where Bullock, Bloxham and 
 Johnson pass barefooted upon their errands. 
 
 At Kaloona the storm lasted through the 
 hours of dark. The rain roared up and down 
 the iron roofs. The lightning flamed outside 
 the windows. The thunder bellowed in the sky. 
 Ever and anon a hurricane of wind clapped hold 
 of the house and shook it, or for an instant the 
 roar of rain died, as though a sudden giant hand 
 had plucked away the heavens. As each blaze 
 of lightning wrenched the landscape from the 
 dark, Power from his standing place by the 
 window, and Mrs. Elliott and Maggie from the 
 security of bed, looked upon a country over 
 which crept a wide reach of water. 
 
 Power was considering bed when the storm 
 began and set him thinking of other things. He 
 lit a pipe and stood before the window spectator 
 of events. He stood for a long time without 
 turning round, but left his post presently, picked 
 up the lamp from the table and made the way 
 down a passage. He stopped before a door and 
 hammered upon it until it opened. By the light 
 of the lamp Mrs. Elliott was discovered con- 
 fronting him, more ample than ever in her wide
 
 THE COMING OF THE RAINS 299 
 
 nightgown. He shouted at her above the cry of 
 the rain. 
 
 "How are you doing in there? Nothing 
 coming through yet?" 
 
 "O.K. to date, Mr. Power. Don't you worry 
 for us. It looks as though the whole place'll bust 
 and go up in a cloud of smoke, don't it?" Mrs. 
 Elliott beamed upon him. 
 
 "I'm just round the corner. Call me if you 
 want me." He nodded good-night and the door 
 shut. Back in the sitting-room he put the lamp 
 on the table and took a stand once more by the 
 window. 
 
 He gave up all thoughts of bed. The cries of 
 the storm and the lights blazing through the 
 window keyed up his nerves. He became full of 
 fancies of which Molly Gregory was the begin- 
 ning and the end. He reproached himself for 
 not remaining until the others came back. In 
 the face of this tumult it seemed a brutal thing 
 to have left the child alone. But now the others 
 would be back, and his fancies did no good. 
 Once more repenting the event ! 
 
 Then his thoughts made their way to Surprise. 
 Was his punishment coming to an end? If he 
 went back and asked forgiveness, would he be 
 forgiven? Molly had told him yes. He had no 
 right to hope for such a thing, yet Maud knew 
 now he loved her. And in truth he loved her as
 
 300 PELICAN POOL 
 
 he had not known how to love a woman a little 
 while ago loving her body, because it was her 
 body; but counting it of small value beside the 
 spirit. Hope was coming back to him to-night 
 with the reviving influence of a cool wind 
 searching the forehead of a castaway in a desert 
 place. 
 
 The door by the verandah steps swung wide 
 open. The storm swept inside the house in a 
 greedy gust. The curtains at the windows were 
 caught up in the air. The light leapt up the 
 chimney of the lamp and went out. He was in 
 the dark. He ran across and pushed the door to. 
 It buffeted him on the shoulder. A glare of 
 lightning lit up the house. He bolted the door, 
 came back and lit the lamp, and wiped the rain 
 off his face. 
 
 The endurance of this storm was remarkable. 
 Commonly the rain was spent within an hour 
 and a lull came. If this did not abate the river 
 would be coming down. They were safe up here 
 on the rise, but it was another matter with the 
 hut on Pelican Pool. Every few years there 
 came a flood which covered all that country. 
 Surely Gregory could look after himself. He 
 was a bushman even if he was a fool. What was 
 he Power worrying about? He was de- 
 pressed because he was damp and circulation 
 went down at this time and the jumping light
 
 THE COMING OF THE RAINS 301 
 
 thrown by the lamp would give any man the 
 blues. 
 
 Finally, while Power stood there at odds with 
 himself, the storm ceased as suddenly as it had 
 begun. 
 
 The hush following on the heels of the tumult 
 brought him abruptly out of his thoughts. He 
 left the room, pushed open the wire door, and 
 stood upon the verandah steps. The sky was 
 covered with clouds over all its face, causing the 
 night to be pitch dark. The air was very cool. 
 A light wind felt the way hither and thither 
 among the nodding boughs of the saplings ; and 
 in all places were countless small voices of drip- 
 ping waters. 
 
 A frog croaked from the direction of the river. 
 A frog replied to it. There followed several 
 croaks, then many croaks. Presently in tens, 
 presently in scores, presently in hundreds were 
 raised the voices of the frogs. The chorus rose 
 up everywhere. A-rrr! A-rrr! Mo-rrr-e! 
 Mo-rrr-e! More water! More water! More 
 water! Then the thunder began again in the 
 South, and the lightning leapt across the dark. 
 The second storm rolled out of the horizon and 
 broke upon the land. 
 
 Later on Power found the way to bed; but 
 he slept badly and quite soon it seemed to be 
 morning.
 
 302 PELICAN POOL 
 
 Kaloona household woke up to a cheerless 
 day. In a lull between the storms light crept 
 into the sky. Power from his window, Mrs. 
 Elliott and Maggie from the kitchen, stared 
 upon a strange country. Heaven was choked 
 with frowning clouds looking down upon a 
 broken land. Pools of water filled the depres- 
 sions. The higher country was beaten and 
 furrowed. Many boughs had been torn from 
 the timber by the river. The saplings bent 
 piteously before the morning wind. Moisture 
 dripped from the leaves down and down until it 
 reached the ground. In all places tiny streams 
 trickled about the country. A thousand small 
 voices of dropping waters murmured in open 
 and hidden places. Louder than the voices of 
 the waters rose the concert of the frogs. 
 
 "Meg," said Mrs. Elliott, coming into the 
 damp kitchen first thing, "we'll be drowned yet, 
 mark me, before this is done." 
 
 "It don't look too good," said Maggie. 
 
 "It don't. There's worse to come," went on 
 Mrs. Elliott, taking a look into the wood box. 
 "What's more, there wouldn't have been a dry 
 stick in the house if that horrid little man had 
 had his way. I don't know what the boss keeps 
 him for." 
 
 "The boss himself is got pretty cranky," said 
 Maggie. "It's time he took a pull on himself."
 
 303 
 
 "It is, Meg." 
 
 The storms pursued each other from dawn to 
 the middle of the day. In the space of moments 
 the sky would blacken, thunder would peal out 
 and a flare of lightning split the heavens. The 
 rain would drum again on the iron roofs. There 
 fell lulls when Power idled on the verandah 
 looking over the country; but towards noon, 
 when the sky was clear for a space, he picked 
 the way to the stables. The ground was filled 
 with pools of water, and the higher land was a 
 morass. There was a bitterness in the air that 
 persuaded him to keep hands in his pockets. He 
 felt dispirited and on edge. 
 
 When he pushed open the stable door 
 Scandalous Jack was fussing round the stalls. 
 The big black horse was in a box, and near it a 
 chestnut horse of O'Neill's. Scandalous Jack 
 stopped working with great readiness and 
 shouted salutations of the day. 
 
 "Marnin', gov'nor, and a bad one at that! I 
 reckon we'll be carrying our swags to Surprise 
 this time to-morrow if things don't take a pull 
 Yer see I kept these two inside. They'll do 
 better in than out, and it will be a fool's game 
 running horses for a bit! The black feller don't 
 look bad, do he?" 
 
 "He's pretty well," said Power, looking the 
 black horse over.
 
 304 PELICAN POOL 
 
 "He's that!" shouted Scandalous, "and I was 
 the man to do it. The lip that woman gives at 
 the house would make you think there was 
 nothing to do but run after her. I'll let her have 
 it one day her, and the gel too, hot and 
 strong." 
 
 "Then you are a braver man than I am, 
 Scandalous," Power said, moving on. "Keep 
 the horses in. They may be wanted." 
 
 O'Neill kicked his heels in the yards at the 
 back of the stables, pipe in mouth and an ex- 
 pression on his face to match the day. Power 
 nodded. 
 
 "Pretty heavy fall," he said. "The river will 
 be down by evening and pretty big too." 
 
 O'Neill shook his head. "Do you reckon they 
 are all right at the Pool? There's times the 
 water fills that channel behind them, you know." 
 
 "They are right enough if Gregory knows his 
 business. I've a mind to go across in the after- 
 noon if the weather lifts." 
 
 Power glanced overhead. Another storm 
 was spreading across the sky. He started to 
 return to the house. The day was quickly 
 darkening and the prospect looked dismal 
 beyond contemplation. Half-a-dozen unoccu- 
 pied people loitered in sight, and the single 
 patch of colour was where the gins in brilliant 
 rags smoked in the doorway of their hut. He
 
 THE COMING OF THE RAINS 305 
 
 went indoors with the hump. Maggie was lay- 
 ing lunch in the dining-room. "Twelve 
 o'clock?" he asked. 
 
 Maggie went out of the room. He fell into 
 contemplation by the window until Mrs. Elliott 
 bustled in on a household errand and brought 
 him to his senses. 
 
 "Don't moon about like that," she cried at 
 sight of him. "Get some work to do." 
 
 "Find it for me," he said, turning towards her. 
 
 Mrs. Elliott confronted him in battle array. 
 "Mr. Power, it's time you took a hold on your- 
 self. This running to and fro every night in the 
 dark isn't no good to you nor to Miss Neville, 
 nor to me for that matter. You'll make a mess 
 o' things soon and I'm old enough to be your 
 mother." 
 
 "Perhaps the mess is made." 
 
 "Now, Mr. Power, I'm talking straight. 
 Things won't be too mixed to put right if you 
 start now. All men are the same and I know a 
 deal about them. They can get themselves 
 boxed up as easy as sheep in a yard, but they 
 are not so quick at the untangling." Mrs. Elliott 
 came closer and grew confidential. She lifted a 
 fat finger. "And I'll tell you something more, 
 Mr. Power. All gels are much of a kind too. 
 You may have a split with them, but if you go
 
 306 PELICAN POOL 
 
 back and drop the soft word into their ears you 
 can get them kind again." 
 
 Maggie came in with the dishes, and a 
 moment after the storm burst above the house. 
 
 The women went out of the room and he 
 began a solitary meal. The rain flogged the 
 iron roof. Presently Maggie appeared to 
 change the dishes and afterwards he was sitting 
 before the finished meal listening to the tumult 
 and feeling too out of temper to light a pipe. 
 On one thing his mind was made up. He would 
 ride to the Pool in the afternoon if he was 
 washed off the road in the attempt. The river 
 would come down in the evening. The family 
 must be brought back and the world could wag 
 its tongue. He was getting the blues for ever 
 debating on the child's safety. 
 
 Without warning the rain was snatched back 
 into the sky. The sudden silence confounded 
 him. Then he threw back his head. Far away 
 rose the voice of tremendous waters. One deep 
 note without rise or fall was being played. He 
 listened with all his might. He could not be 
 mistaken. The river had come down. 
 
 He pushed back his chair and got to his feet. 
 The verandah was a few steps away. The 
 storm was hurrying out of the sky and the day 
 had brightened once more. All over the country 
 arose again the gentle melodious cries of drip-
 
 THE COMING OF THE RAINS 307 
 
 ping waters. He leant on the rail by the veran- 
 dah steps. Now the thunder of the river was 
 distinct, and among the trees he saw here and 
 there widening sheets of water. He had not 
 made a mistake. 
 
 His depression left him in a moment. He 
 began to think very quickly. The river must 
 have reached the Pool two hours ago. He had 
 never known such a sudden flood. By this time 
 the water would be all over that low country. 
 The Gregorys would be without a home. What 
 if the fellow had proved a fool and taken risks? 
 He must satisfy himself. He must go without 
 delay. 
 
 He went inside again. He found his spurs 
 and pulled on an oilskin. Mrs. Elliott came run- 
 ning down the passage. 
 
 "Trie river is down, Mr. Power. A regular 
 old man flood." 
 
 He answered walking past her. "I heard it. 
 I shall be away in a minute. I may bring back 
 those people on the river. You had better have 
 something ready." 
 
 "Don't dare bring 'em inside the place!" cried 
 Mrs. Elliott, but the door was shut on her 
 words. 
 
 As Power left the house a man on horseback 
 was coming through the gate of the homestead 
 paddock. The horse had been pushed to the
 
 3o8 PELICAN POOL 
 
 limit of its strength. It breathed with sobs and 
 trembled as it walked. The rider rolled in the 
 saddle. Man and beast were plastered with a 
 coat of mud. It covered them from the crown 
 of the man's hat to the hoofs of the horse. Then 
 the rider spat clear his mouth and called out. It 
 was Gregory. 
 
 "The river has come down! The gel is 
 drowned!" 
 
 Power felt a sudden rage seize him by the 
 throat; but he answered in a level voice. 
 "What's that you say?" 
 
 "The river's down. The gel's drowned!" 
 
 "What were you doing?" 
 
 "I was at Surprise with the missus. We was 
 on a bit of a spree. We wasn't back last night. 
 I rode down an hour since. The river was down 
 then and the hut going to bits. The water had 
 come round the back of the place. There wasn't 
 a sign of the gel. She'd have tried to cross and 
 got washed away. Aw, Gawd, what's to be 
 done?" 
 
 "Get out of the way!" Power said. He 
 moved towards the stables at a walk that was 
 becoming a run. Scandalous Jack bobbed about 
 the doorway. "Saddle my horse !" he called out. 
 
 Scandalous threw up his head in surprise. 
 "You're not mad enough to ?"
 
 THE COMING OF THE RAINS 309 
 
 "Saddle that horse!" he shouted. Scandalous 
 bobbed inside. 
 
 Power began to call out for O'Neill. The man 
 came out of the doorway of his hut. With 
 common consent they ran towards each other. 
 "Gregory is here. The child is drowned !" The 
 two men began to run faster and towards the 
 stable. ''We might be in time. I am going 
 now." 
 
 Scandalous was coming out of the stable door 
 with the black horse. It threw its head this way 
 and that, snorting loudly. Scandalous, very full 
 of respect, nursed his corns. Power took the 
 reins. O'Neill was running for a saddle. 
 
 "Scandalous, listen to me. The river has 
 come down at Pelican Pool. There's been an 
 accident. Gregory's girl may be drowned. I'm 
 going there now. Send Jackie after the buggy 
 horses. You must bring the buggy as fast as 
 you can. Bring anything useful. Bring some 
 rope. Bring blankets. Bring whisky. Find 
 Jackie now. Jackie!" 
 
 He gathered the reins in one hand and put the 
 other on the saddle. The wind arrived and blew 
 his oilskin into the air. The black horse sent a 
 blast from its nostrils and reared high ; but as it 
 came to ground he was gaining the saddle. He 
 picked up the stirrups and drew the reins 
 together. The wind was in his face. Far away,
 
 310 PELICAN POOL 
 
 but loud, sounded the roar of the river. The 
 beast beneath him reefed at the reins. The 
 small paddock was covered in a score of bounds. 
 He found he must use both hands to check the 
 animal. Pools of water splashed under them 
 and the mud sucked at its hoofs. Clods of earth 
 leapt upon his back. The gate demanded a halt. 
 He pushed open the gate with his foot. 
 
 The Pool was distant only a few miles; but 
 travelling was so bad he dared not force the 
 pace. He left the gate wide open, and turned 
 towards the river. He took the reins in both 
 hands. He bent his head a little. A stream of 
 lightning flooded the sky. A rush of wind hit 
 him a buffet in the face. The day began to 
 darken. He felt the animal's mouth with firm 
 hands. It answered the signal. 
 
 It plunged away, leaning hard on his hands. 
 It was the most powerful beast he rode, yet he 
 hesitated to give it head. He knew the spur 
 must be used before the end of the journey. 
 The country was a bog. Sheets of shallow 
 water covered the plain. It was a struggle to 
 win a foot of the rough ground. They rode for 
 a spill. Every yard of travelling splashed him to 
 the top of his head. On the higher ground, un- 
 covered by the water, clouts of mud struck him 
 behind.
 
 THE COMING OF THE RAINS 311 
 
 The day had turned black. Lightning poured 
 out of the clouds. Thunder stamped upon the 
 sky until it trembled. Here and here a starved 
 sapling stood up in the water. There and there 
 a broken tuft of spinifex lifted up its sodden 
 spikes. He looked once over his shoulder to see 
 O'Neill labouring half-a-mile behind. A second 
 rush of wind, fiercer than the first, beat him in 
 the face. The new storm was about to break. 
 
 He wondered what he was thinking of, and he 
 found he was not thinking. Instead, he was 
 filled with a grievous sense of tragedy. He was 
 late. Once more he was late. He had left her 
 alone to die. 
 
 In the teeth of better judgment he tightened 
 the reins and signalled greater speed. A blaze 
 of lightning tore the sky in half; the thunder 
 shattered overhead and the rains rushed out of 
 the sky. He thought the shock had thrown the 
 beast off its feet. It propped on the instant 
 and swung around. Good luck and skill held 
 him in the saddle. He strove to turn it around, 
 but it would not answer him. His nerves were 
 worn raw and his temper got the better of 
 wisdom. He fell upon it with whip and spur. 
 
 It came round at last and began to thrust side- 
 ways through the downpour. The rains 
 scourged them. The water leapt from his 
 shoulders back into his face. The landscape was
 
 312 PELICAN POOL 
 
 blotted out. In an instant the lower half of him 
 was wet through. He could not see. He could 
 hear nothing but the rain. He felt the suck 
 and draw of the animal's hoofs as it rolled along. 
 Again and again the lightning thrust its arms 
 about the sky. He rode through the rain-burst 
 for a very long time. Without warning he 
 passed out on the other side. The rain stopped, 
 the storm rolled behind him, the day grew 
 bright again. 
 
 He had covered most of the journey. The 
 river was a mile away, but his horse was done. 
 He himself felt dazed and his clothes held him 
 with clammy fingers. The passing of the storm 
 had left the world very still. He rubbed the 
 water from his eyes. Someone was ahead of 
 him. A buggy advanced to the edge of the 
 timbered country. It contained only the driver, 
 who was crouched over the reins. He thought 
 he recognised King. 
 
 Something farther away than King arrested 
 his vision. Half of the journey had been made 
 across a sheet of shallow water; but over there, 
 where the higher trees began, the water eddied 
 and tossed, betraying the edge of the river. He 
 looked on the highest flood in his memory. The 
 timber concealed the great body of water; but 
 far away on the other side of the trees climbed 
 the flood. A deep note came across to him ; the
 
 THE COMING OF THE RAINS 313 
 
 voice of the river hurrying to its marriage with 
 the sea. 
 
 He did not remember finishing the journey. 
 He bullied a spent horse the rest of the way. 
 After a long time they reached the edge of the 
 timber where a minute or two before the buggy 
 had come to a halt. 
 
 He pulled up the horse beside the buggy. 
 Mr. King had got down and was standing in the 
 water. They did not trouble to greet each 
 other, and he thought King looked out of his 
 mind. They stood on the edge of the flood 
 waters. Half-a-mile away the body of the river 
 roared on its journey. In the intervening space 
 the trees stood out of the sluggish water 
 shaking their damaged boughs in the wind. The 
 shaded ways, the quiet places had gone ; there 
 was no sign of Pelican Pool. 
 
 His breath came back, and with his breath 
 returned his presence of mind. He forgot the 
 man beside him and stared over the ears of the 
 horse. One by one old landmarks were picked 
 up, and at last his eye found the wreckage of the 
 hut. It was a third of the way across the river. 
 The main body of water swept beyond it, but 
 an arm of the river had come in this way. 
 Horror laid a hand upon his heart. 
 
 A terrible cry rang out beside him. "My 
 Princess! My Princess!" Mr. King was look-
 
 PELICAN POOL 
 
 ing at the hut. Of a sudden he began running 
 towards it. He ran stumbling a long way and 
 stopped only when the water reached his knees. 
 He threw his arms before him and cried again 
 in the terrible voice: "My Princess! My Prin- 
 cess!" The roar of the river came back in 
 answer. 
 
 Power touched the horse with his heel and it 
 began to walk forward through the water. As 
 the depth increased, the beast snorted and threw 
 about its head. They had advanced a little 
 way, when O'Neill overtook them, and the two 
 men moved side by side towards the broken 
 water. 
 
 Power believed now Molly Gregory was dead. 
 The child had sat all night in the hut after he 
 had left her listening to the storms breaking 
 outside. No doubt she had been rilled with 
 fancies which had mocked at sleep. To-day she 
 had watched the water climbing towards her 
 door with greedy lips. She had fled at last in 
 panic to the land, and the blundering river had 
 seized her in its arms. 
 
 He believed she was dead, and here he sat on 
 horseback guiding the beast forward, holding it 
 tight when it stumbled, avoiding the driftwood, 
 and bending his head beneath limbs of trees. 
 She was dead and he moved forward towards 
 the body of the river, while the gentle waves of
 
 THE COMING OF THE RAINS 315 
 
 this back channel crept up the legs of his horse 
 so that now they licked its belly. He did this 
 calmly and with a cool brain. Was he over 
 quick at forgetting, or had too much sorrow de- 
 feated itself, as one pain is cured by another? 
 
 She was dead, but the three men that had 
 loved her were still condemned to use the eyes 
 that had looked upon her, to employ the arms 
 that had supported her, to move the lips that 
 had been pressed by her kisses. 
 
 There came an end to the advance. A stone's 
 throw beyond the halting place began the 
 current. The river swept on its journey with a 
 high tremendous cry. Far among the timber 
 on the other bank brown currents surged and 
 boiled. Trunks of trees whirled down from 
 distant forests ; rubbish from a hundred places 
 hurried out of sight. The lesser trees danced 
 their leaves upon the waves. Like a barbarous 
 giant the river thundered to the sea. 
 
 Somewhere in that yeast of waters the child's 
 fair body hurried away. From the tumult of the 
 river it was passing to the amorous embraces 
 of a coral sea. The scarlet lips where so many 
 men had left their kisses would be caressed anew 
 by the gentle lips of an ocean. By day and by 
 night that slender form would float on its final 
 journey, peering into the mouths of solemn 
 caverns, stroked by the tresses of love-sick
 
 3i6 PELICAN POOL 
 
 weeds, secure from the greedy suns staring 
 hungrily through the blue roof, and followed by 
 the curious moon as she looked to see what 
 radiant thing took its walk by dark along the 
 ocean bed. 
 
 The brilliant fishes would arrive to peer at 
 this rare thing, the loathsome octopus beneath 
 his ledge of rock would hide his shame behind a 
 sepia curtain, and presently the brown pearl- 
 fisher, descending from his bobbing barque, 
 would halt in wonder at a pearl larger and more 
 lustrous than all his toils had brought him. 
 
 Where had fled the little soul? Perhaps as a 
 tiny jewelled bird already it fluttered through 
 celestial fields, quick and charming and bright, 
 but a thing of small account. In that new 
 country where sight was keener, it would not 
 again be priced above its worth. 
 
 The flow and hurry of the river was drugging 
 Power's mind. He broke the spell by a jerk of 
 the head, and looking behind him saw King not 
 very far away deep in the water. King was 
 suddenly an old man. Power turned to the 
 horseman beside him. O'Neill stared at the 
 broken hut. His head was thrust forward, and 
 he sat huddled in the saddle. The water had 
 climbed to the saddle-flap, and the ends of his oil- 
 skin played with the waves. He began to speak 
 at that moment.
 
 THE COMING OF THE RAINS 317 
 
 "I reckon I'd have a chance of getting across. 
 I could go higher up and beat the pull of the 
 current." 
 
 "You wouldn't," Power said. "And no use if 
 you could. She isn't there. We shan't see her 
 again." 
 
 "Gawd! I must go across! I can't stay 
 here!" 
 
 "It will do no good, Mick. She has escaped 
 us." 
 
 Power drew his horse beside the other man, 
 for the clamour of the river made speech 
 difficult. He began to speak more intimately 
 than ever he remembered doing. 
 
 "Once I loved her in a way it will be hard to 
 love anyone else. Then passion seemed to go 
 away somewhere, I don't know where ; but she 
 taught me so much I shall never be out of her 
 debt. She has made me look on life with new 
 eyes. 
 
 "I have something to tell you. I was down 
 here last night before the rain began. She had 
 been alone all day, and she was quite strange 
 so serious. We talked about a lot of things, and 
 I asked her which of us three she loved. She 
 said it was you. The three of us fought over 
 her, and in the middle she slipped away and it 
 seems we have lost her ; but because she loved 
 you, she left you her best behind.
 
 318 PELICAN POOL 
 
 "We must go back and get dry. There is 
 nothing else to do. To-morrow, if the storms 
 keep away, we can look for her lower down ; but 
 we won't find her. Just now the world seems to 
 have come to an end. Things will be straighter 
 in a bit, and we'll find there is something to be 
 got out of this. To reach for a thing and to get 
 it may be good enough, but a man grows 
 quicker by stretching for the thing beyond his 
 hand. We shall always remember her as a fairy 
 thing out of reach, and looking for her to come 
 again will help a fellow to growl less in the 
 summer, give him more patience to teach his 
 dog manners, hurry him through the day's work. 
 Come, we must get back." 
 
 Power brought his horse about. He heard 
 O'Neill splash behind him. He went across to 
 King, and King turned up a haggard face. 
 
 "We must get back. There is nothing to do." 
 
 The three men began to splash towards the 
 land. Two more buggies had arrived on the 
 bank. Scandalous Jack was getting down from 
 one, and the other was drawn by the white 
 buggy horses of Surprise. The old man sat in 
 the driver's seat and beside him was Maud 
 Neville. Power met her glance across the 
 distance. The three men reached the bank.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 THE MEETING BY THE RIVER 
 
 POWER dismounted. He was full of tiny 
 pains and the cold was beginning to eat 
 into his bones. Neville had pulled up the 
 buggy near at hand. The old man was plastered 
 with mud to his shaggy eyebrows. 
 
 "Hey, Power!" he shouted out. "What's 
 become of the gel?" 
 
 "We were too late." 
 
 "Goodness, that's a nuisance ! Get out, Maud, 
 gel. I want to get down." The two people got 
 down from the buggy. "Now that's annoyin'," 
 went on the old man, feeling under the seat for 
 his stick. "Nearly killed ourselves getting here, 
 too. I may be wrong, but I reckon the horses 
 won't be much good for a day or two, huh, huh ! 
 Here's what I was after. It's looking a bit more 
 settled over there now. The rain may be gone 
 for a while." 
 
 Scandalous arrived across the mud. 
 
 "Hold this horse," Power said. He delivered 
 it and walked forward to meet Neville. They 
 
 319
 
 320 PELICAN POOL 
 
 had not met for many days and saluted each 
 other abruptly. 
 
 "The gel's drowned after all, then, Power?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "You would have thought a gel like her would 
 find sense to look after herself. No sign of her 
 anywhere about?" The old man cast glances 
 up and down the bank. 
 
 "We'll search lower down to-morrow." 
 
 "Yes, I reckon that's all there is to do. It's 
 not much use hanging round here gettin' cold. 
 The river came down pretty quick and pretty 
 big. Gracious! What's up with King! Good- 
 ness, he's badly hit!" 
 
 The old man trotted away after King. 
 
 Maud stood beside the buggy. She was look- 
 ing at the river. Power found himself watching 
 her. She was wet through and blown about by 
 the wind ; but her gaze was steady as it followed 
 the rush of the current. Of those who had 
 hurried here in panic, she only was serene; yet 
 the schoolmaster had set her the severest tasks. 
 It must be she was the aptest pupil. Power 
 tried to follow her thoughts. She was finding a 
 symbol in the river. It had rushed down with a 
 great cry upon this quiet place, snatching away 
 the old landmarks. Its fury would wear out 
 presently, and over the wrecked country a
 
 THE MEETING BY THE RIVER 321 
 
 kindly growth of green would make its way. 
 That was what she saw. 
 
 Power fell into reflection Two months ago 
 he had found Gregory sleeping a drunken sleep 
 on the road, had taken pity on him and had led 
 him home. In the doorway of a shabby tent 
 beside the river he had seen Molly for the first 
 time. Two months had gone by since then, and 
 for sixty days he had lived life more acutely 
 than he had believed possible. He would not 
 wish to live life so keenly again. He seemed to 
 have travelled in every country. He seemed to 
 have lived in every climate. He seemed to have 
 climbed every height and to have gone down 
 into every dark way. All books had been opened 
 that he might look inside. All strings of ex- 
 perience had been plucked that he might listen 
 to new notes. 
 
 These two months were at an end, and there 
 seemed no more countries to visit, no more 
 climates to test, no more heights to climb, no 
 more depths to descend. The books were being 
 shut. The strings of experience were growing 
 mute. Instead of turning his ears to siren 
 voices, he listened again to the speech of every- 
 day. In place of fields of asphodel, he trod again 
 the highway. It was time to see where he stood 
 to add up gains and subtract losses. 
 
 Strange that the metal must pass through the
 
 322 PELICAN POOL 
 
 fire before the artificer will receive it. Strange 
 that a man must experience sorrow before wis- 
 dom will shape him to its ends. Yet such burn- 
 ings need not be considered punishment, such 
 sorrow need not be counted degradation. 
 
 He had served his apprenticeship to love and 
 now might call himself craftsman. He knew 
 where to chisel with his tools not in the poor 
 material of the human body, but in the enduring 
 fabric of the spirit. He had learned this craft, 
 and the fee of apprenticeship had been that he 
 had put aside unrecognised the finest material 
 that would come under his hand. 
 
 He came out of his reverie and found Maud 
 watching bim. He went towards her through 
 the pools of water. 
 
 My tale is told. While nine months have been 
 wearing out, I have come back, night by night, 
 to this tent, a scribe who would beguile the hour 
 w r ith the telling of a story. The tale is told to 
 the last word. Put down the pen; run in the 
 horses and saddle up. It is time to seek new 
 places. The railway line creeps across the plain 
 to Surprise ; and growth and change will fall 
 upon the camp to devour it. Take down the 
 tent, fill up the tucker-bags and load the pack- 
 horse. It is time to be gone.
 
 W. C. Penfold & Co. Ltd., Printers. 183 Pitt Street, Srdney.
 
 November, 
 
 Just Published. 
 
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 SONGS OF LOVE AND LIFE. With additional poems 
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 THE AUSTRALIAN, and Other Verses. With coloured 
 frontispiece and title-page by Hal Gye, 
 
 Ordinary Edition, 7 x 6 inches, 4/-. 
 
 Pocket Edition for the Trenches, 5^ x 4 inches, 4/-. 
 
 POCKET EDITIONS FOR THE TRENCHES. 
 
 Size 5f x 4 inches. Each volume with frontispiece 
 and title-page in colour, price 4/-. 
 
 THE GLUGS OF GOSH. By C. J. Dennis. Illustrated by 
 Hal Gye. 
 
 THE SONGS OF A SENTIMENTAL BLOKE. By C. J. 
 Dennis. Illustrated by Hal Gye. 
 
 THE MOODS OF GINGER MICK. By C. J. Dennis. 
 Illustrated by Hal Gye. 
 
 THE AUSTRALIAN, AND OTHER VERSES. By Will H. 
 Ogilvie. Illustrated by Hal Gye. 
 
 SALTBUSH BILL, J.P., AND OTHER VERSES. By A. B. 
 Paterson. Illustrated by Lionel Lindsay. 
 
 THE MAN FROM SNOWY RIVER. By A. B. Paterson. 
 Illustrated by Norman Lindsay. 
 
 RIO GRANDE, AND OTHER VERSES. By A. B. Paterson. 
 Illustrated by Hal Gye. 
 
 SYDNEY: ANGUS & ROBERTSON LTD.
 
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