Mates at Billabong, Page 3

  CHAPTER III

  A BATH--AND AN INTRODUCTION

  Quiet and shy, as the Bush girls are, But ready-witted and plucky, too. A. B. PATERSON.

  The telegram assuring a welcome to Cecil Linton was duly dispatched,and the fact of his impending arrival broken to Mrs. Brown, who sniffedportentously, and gave without enthusiasm directions for thepreparation of his room. "Mrs. Geoffrey" was rather a bugbear toBrownie, who had unpleasant recollections of a visit in the past fromthat majestic lady. During her stay of a week, she had attempted toalter every existing arrangement at Billabong--and when she finallydeparted, in a state of profound disapproval, the relief of thehomestead was immense. Brownie was unable to feel any delight at theidea of entertaining her son.

  Norah and her father made the utmost of their remaining time together.Thursday was devoted to a great muster of calves, which meant unlimitedgalloping and any amount of excitement; for the sturdy youngsters wererunning with their mothers in one of the bush paddocks, and it was noeasy matter to cut them out and work them away from the friendlyshelter and refuge of the trees. A bush-reared calf is an irresponsiblebeing, with a great fund of energy and spirits--and, while Norah lovedher day, she was thoroughly tired as they rode home in the lateevening, the last straggler yarded in readiness for the branding nextday. Mr. Linton sent her to bed early, and she did not wake in themorning until the dressing gong boomed its cheerful summons through thehouse.

  Mr. Linton was already at breakfast when swift footsteps were heard inthe hall above; a momentary silence indicated that his daughter wascoming downstairs by way of the banisters, and the next moment shearrived hastily.

  "I'm so sorry, Dad," Norah said, greeting him. "But I DID sleep! Letme pour out your coffee."

  She brought the cup to him, investigated a dish of bacon, and slippedinto her place behind the tall silver coffee pot.

  "What are we going to do to-day, Dad?"

  "I really don't quite know," Mr. Linton said, smiling at her. "Therearen't any very pressing jobs on hand--we must cut out cattle to-morrowfor trucking, but to-day seems fairly free. Have you any ideas on thesubject of how you'd like to spend it? I've letters to write for acouple of hours, but after that I'm at your disposal."

  Norah wrinkled her brows.

  "There are about fifty things I want to do," she said. "But most ofthem ought to wait until Jim comes home." She thought for a moment. "Idon't want to miss any more time with Bobs than I have to--could we rideover to the backwater, Dad, and muster up the cattle there? You knowyou said you were going to do so, pretty soon."

  "I'd nearly forgotten that I had to see them," Mr. Linton said,hastily. "Glad you reminded me, Norah. We'll have lunch early, and goacross."

  Norah's morning was spent in helping Mrs. Brown to compound Christmascakes--large quantities of which were always made and stored well beforeChristmas, with due reference to the appetites of Jim and his friends.Then a somewhat heated and floury damsel donned a neat divided ridingskirt of dark-blue drill, with a white-linen coat, and the collar andtie which Norah regarded as the only reasonable neck gear, and joinedher father in the office.

  "Ready? That's right," said he, casting an approving glance at the trimfigure. "I've just finished writing, and the horses are in."

  "So's lunch," Norah responded. "It's a perfectly beautiful day for aride, Daddy--hurry up!"

  The day merited Norah's epithet, as they rode over the paddocks in theafternoon. As yet the grass had not dried up, thanks to the late rains,and everywhere a green sea rippled to the fences. Soon it would be dulland yellow; but this day there was nothing to mar the perfection of thecarpet that gave softly under the horses' hoofs. The dogs raced wildlybefore them, chasing swallows and ground-larks in the cheerfullyidiotic manner of dogs, with always a wary ear for Mr. Linton'swhistle: but as yet they were not on duty, and were allowed to runriot.

  An old log fence stretched before them. It was the only one onBillabong, where all station details were strictly up-to-date. This onehad been left, partly because it was picturesque, and partly at therequest of Jim and Norah, because it gave such splendid opportunitiesfor jumping. There were not many places on that old fence that Bobs didnot know, and he began to reef and pull as they came nearer to it.

  "I don't believe I'll be able to hold him in, Daddy!" said Norah, withmock anxiety.

  "Not afraid, I hope?" asked her father, laughing.

  "Very--that you won't want to jump! I'd hate to disappoint him,Daddy--may I?"

  "Oh, go on!" said Mr. Linton. "If I said 'no' the savage animal wouldprobably bolt!" He held Monarch back as Norah gave the bay pony hishead, and they raced for the fence; watching with a smile in his eyesthe straight little form in the white coat, the firm seat in thesaddle, the steady hand on the rein. Bobs flew the big log like a bird,and Norah twisted in her saddle to watch the black horse follow. Hereyes were glowing as her father came up.

  "I do think he loves it as much as I do!" she said, patting the pony'sneck.

  "He's certainly as keen a pony as I ever saw," Mr. Linton said. "Howare you going to manage without him, Norah?"

  Norah looked up, her eyes wide with astonishment.

  "Do without BOBS!" she exclaimed. "But I simply couldn't--he's one ofthe family." Then her face fell suddenly, and the life died out of hervoice. "Oh--school," she said.

  The change was rather pitiful, and Mr. Linton mentally abused himselffor his question.

  "He'll always be waiting for you when you come home, dear," he said."Plenty of holidays--and think how fit he'll be! We'll have great rides,Norah."

  "I guess I'll want them," she said. Silence fell between them.

  The scrub at the backwater was fairly thick, and the cattle had soughtits shade when the noonday sun struck hot. Well fed and sleek, they layabout under the trees or on the little grassy flats formed by the bendsof the stream. Norah and her father separated, each taking a dog, andbeat through the bush, routing out stragglers as they went. The echoesof the stock-whips rang along the water. Norah's was only a light whip,half the length and weight of the one her father carried. It wasbeautifully plaited--a special piece of work, out of a special hide;while the handle was a triumph of the stockman's art. It had been agift to Norah from an old boundary rider whose whips were famous, andshe valued it more than most of her possessions, while long practiceand expert tuition had given her no little skill in its use.

  She worked through the scrub, keeping her eyes in every direction, forthe cattle were lazy and did not stir readily, and it was easy to missa motionless beast hidden behind a clump of dogwood or Christmasbush--the scrub tree that greets December with its exquisite whiteblossoms. When at length she came to the end of her division and droveher cattle out of the shelter she had quite a respectable little mob toadd to those with which her father was already waiting.

  It was only to be a rough muster; rather, a general inspection to seehow the bullocks were doing, for the nearest stockyards were at thehomestead, and Mr. Linton did not desire to drive them far. He managedto get a rough count along a fence--Norah in the rear, bringing thebullocks along slowly, so that they strung out under their owner's eye.Occasionally one would break out and try to race past him on the wrongside. Bobs was as quick as his rider to watch for these vagrants, andat the first hint of a breakaway he would be off in pursuit. It waswork the pair loved.

  "Hundred and thirty," said Mr. Linton, as the last lumbering beasttrotted past him, and, finding the way clear, with no harrowingcreatures to annoy him and head him back to his mates, kicked up hisheels and made off across the paddock.

  "Did any get behind me, Norah?"

  "No, Daddy."

  "That's a good girl. They look well, don't they?"

  Norah assented. "Did you notice how that big poley bullock had come on,Dad?"

  "Yes, he's three parts fat," said Mr. Linton. "All very satisfactory,and the count is only two short--not bad for a rough muster."

  They turned homewards, cantering quickly over th
e paddocks; the goingwas too good, Norah said, to waste on walking; and it was a delight tofeel the long, even stride under one, and the gentle wind blowing uponone's cheeks. As he rode, Mr. Linton watched the eager, vivid littleface, alight with the joy of motion. If Bobs were keen, there was nodoubt that his mistress was even keener.

  They crossed the log fence again by what Norah termed "the directroute," traversed the home paddock, and drew up with a clatter of hoofsat the stable yard. Billy, a black youth of some fame concerninghorses, came forward as they dismounted and took the bridles. But Norahpreferred to unsaddle Bobs herself and let him go; she held it onlycivil after he had carried her well. She was leading him off when thedusky retainer muttered something to her father.

  "Oh, all right, Billy," said Mr. Linton. "Norah, those fellows fromCunjee have come to see me about buying sheep. I expect I shall have totake them out to the paddock I don't think you'd better come."

  "All right, Dad." Sheep did not interest Norah very much. "I think I'llgo down to the lagoon."

  "Very well, don't distinguish yourself by falling in," said her father,with a laugh over his shoulder as he hurried away towards the house.

  Left to herself, Norah paid a visit to Brownie in the kitchen, whichresulted in afternoon tea--there was never a bush home where tea did notmake its appearance on the smallest possible pretext. Then she slippedoff her linen jacket and brown leather leggings and, having beguiledblack Billy into digging her some worms, found some fishing tackle andstrolled down to the lagoon.

  It was a broad sheet of water, at one end thickly fringed with trees,while in the shallower parts a forest of green, feathery reeds borderedit, swaying and rustling all day, no matter how soft the breeze. Thedeeper end had been artificially hollowed out, and a bathing box hadbeen built, with a springboard jutting out over the water. Under theraised floor of the bathing box a boat was moored. Norah pulled it outand dropped down into it, stowing her tin of worms carefully in thestern. Then she paddled slowly into the deepest part of the lagoon,baited her line scientifically, and began to fish.

  Only eels rewarded her efforts; and while eels are not bad fun to pullout, Norah regarded them as great waste of time, since no one atBillabong cared to eat them, and in any case she would not let themcome into the boat--for a good-sized eel can make a boat unpleasantlyslimy in a very short time. So each capture had to be carefullyreleased at the stern--not a very easy task. Before long Norah's whiteblouse showed various marks of conflict; and being by nature a cleanperson, she was rather disgusted with things in general. When at lengtha large silver eel, on being pulled up, was found to have swallowed thehook altogether, she fairly lost patience.

  "Well, you'll have to keep it," she said, cutting her line; whereuponthe eel dropped back into the water thankfully, and made off as thoughhe had formed a habit of dining on hooks, and, in fact, preferred themas an article of diet. "I'm sure you'll have shocking indigestion,"Norah said, watching the swirl of bubbles.

  The boat had drifted some way down the lagoon, and a rustle told Norahthat they were near one of the reedy islands dotted here and there inthe shallows. There was very little foothold on them, but they madeexcellent nesting places for the ducks that came to the station eachyear. The boat grounded its nose in the soft mud, and Norah jumped upto push it off. Planting the blade of the oar among the reeds, sheleant her weight upon it and shoved steadily.

  The next events happened swiftly. The mud gave way suddenly with asuck, and the oar promptly slithered, burying itself for half itslength; and Norah, taken altogether by surprise, executed a gracefulheader over the bow of the boat. The mud received her softly, and clungto her with affection; and for a moment, face downward among the reeds,Norah clawed for support, like a crab suddenly beached. Then, somehow,she scrambled to a sitting position, up to her waist in mud andwater--and rocked with laughter. A little way off, the boat swayedgently on the ruffled surface of the water.

  "Well--of all the duffers!" Norah said. She tried to stand, andforthwith went up to one knee in the mud. Then, seeing that there wasno help for it, she managed to slip into deeper water--not very easy,for the mud showed a deep attachment to her--and swam to the boat. Toget into it proved beyond her, but, fortunately, the bank was not faroff, and, though her clothes hampered her badly--a riding skirt is themost inconvenient of swimming suits--she was as much at home as a duckin the water, and soon got ashore.

  Then she inspected herself, standing on the grass, while a pool ofwater rapidly widened round her. Alas, for the trim maiden of themorning! soaked to the skin, her lank hair clinging round her face, hercollar a limp rag, the dye from her red silk tie spreading in artisticpatches on her white blouse! Over all was the rich black mud of thelagoon, from brow to boot soles. Her hat, once white felt, was a soddenblack-streaked mass; even her hands and face were stiff with mud.

  "Thank goodness, Daddy's out!" said the soaked one, returning knee-deepin the water to try and cleanse herself as much as might be--which wasno great amount, for lagoon mud defies ordinary efforts. She waded out,still laughing; cast an apprehensive glance at the quarter from whichher father might be expected to return, and set out on her journey tothe house, the water squelching dismally in her boots at every step.

  In the garden at Billabong walked a slim youth in most correct attire.His exquisitely tailored suit of palest grey flannel was set off by alavender-striped shirt, with a tie that matched the stripe. Patentleather shoes with wide ribbon bows shod him; above them, and below theturned-up trousers, lavender silk socks with purple circles made a veryglory of his ankles. On his sleek head he balanced a straw hat with aninfinitesimal brim, a crown tall enough to resemble a monument, and avery wide hat band. His pale, well-featured face betrayed unuttereddepths of boredom.

  The click of the gate made him turn. Coming up the path was a figurethat might have been plaintive but that Norah was so immensely amusedat herself; and the stranger opened his pale eyes widely, for suchapparitions had not come his way. She did not see him for a moment.When she did, he was directly in her path, and Norah pulled up short.

  "Oh!" she said weakly; and then--"I didn't know anyone was here."

  The strange youth looked somewhat disgusted.

  "I should think you'd--ah--better go round to the back," he saidcondescendingly. "You'll find the housekeeper there."

  This time it was Norah's turn to be open-eyed.

  "Thanks," she said a little shortly. "Were you waiting to see anyone?"

  The boy's eyebrows went up. "I am--ah--staying here."

  "Oh, are you?" Norah said. "I didn't know. I'm Norah Linton."

  "You!" said the stranger. There was such a world of expression in histone that Norah flushed scarlet, suddenly painfully conscious of herextraordinary appearance. Then--it was unusual for her--she became angry.

  "Did you never see anyone wet?" she asked, in trenchant tones. "Anddidn't you ever learn to take your hat off?"

  "By Jove!" said the boy, looking at the truculent and mud-streakedfigure. Then he did an unwise thing, for he burst out laughing.

  "I don't know who you are," Norah said, looking at him steadily. "But Ithink you're the rudest, worst-mannered boy that ever came here!"

  She flashed past him with her head in the air. Cecil Linton, staringafter her with amazement, saw her cross the red-tiled verandahhurriedly and disappear within a side door, a trail of wet marks behindher.

  "By Jove!" he said again. "The bush cousin!"