Mates at Billabong, Page 4

  CHAPTER IV

  CUTTING OUT

  And the loony bullock snorted when you first came into view, Well, you know, it's not so often that he sees a swell like you. A. B. PATERSON.

  Norah did not encounter the newcomer again until dinner-time.

  She was in the drawing-room, waiting for the gong to sound, when Cecilcame in with her father. For a moment he did not recognize the soakedwaif of the garden whom he had recommended "to go round to the back."

  A hot bath and a change of raiment had restored Norah to her usualself; had helped her also to laugh at her meeting with her cousin,although she was still ruffled at the memory of the sneer in his laugh.Perhaps because of that she had dressed more carefully than usual.Cecil might have been excused for failing to recognize the grave-facedmaiden, very dainty in her simple frock of soft white silk, with herstill-moist curls tied back with a broad white ribbon.

  "As you two have already met, there's no need to introduce you," saidMr. Linton, a twinkle in his eye. "Sorry your reception was soinformal, Cecil--you took us by surprise."

  "I suppose the mater mixed things up, as usual," Cecil said, in a boredway. "I certainly intended all along to get here to-day, but she'sfearfully vague, don't you know. I was lucky in getting a lift out."

  "You certainly were," his uncle said, dryly. "However, I'm glad youdidn't have to wait in the township. You'd have found it slow."

  "I'd probably have gone back," said Cecil.

  "Ah--would you?" Mr. Linton looked for a moment very much as though hewished he had done so. There was an uncomfortable pause, to which thesummons to dinner formed a welcome break.

  Dinner was very different from the usual cheery meal. Cecil was notshy, and supplied most of the conversation as a matter of course; andhis conversation was of a kind new to Norah. She remained unusuallysilent, being, indeed, fully occupied in taking stock of this novelvariety of boy. She wondered were all city boys different from thoseshe knew. Jim was not like this; neither were the friends he wasaccustomed to bring home with him. They were not a bit grown up, andthey talked of ordinary, wholesome things like cricket and football,and horses, and dormitory "larks," and were altogether sensible andcompanionable. But Cecil's talk was of theatres and bridge parties,and--actually--clothes! Horses he only mentioned in connexion withracing, and when Mr. Linton inquired mildly if he were fond of dances,he was met by raised eyebrows and a bored disclaimer of caring to doanything so energetic. Altogether this product of city culture was aneye-opener to the simple folks of Billabong.

  Of Norah, Cecil took very little notice. She was evidently a beingquite beneath his attention--he was secretly amused at the way in whichshe presided at her end of the table, and decided in his own mind thathis mother's views had been correct, and that this small girl would beall the better for a little judicious snubbing. So he ignored her inhis conversation, and if she made a remark contrived to infuse a faintshade of patronage into his reply. It is possible that his amazementwould have been great had he known how profoundly his uncle longed tokick him.

  Dinner over, Norah fled to Brownie, and to that sympathetic soulunburdened her woes. Mr. Linton and his nephew retired to the verandah,where the former preferred to smoke in summer. He smiled a little atthe elaborate cigarette case Cecil drew out, but lit his pipe withoutcomment, reflecting inwardly that although cigarettes were scarcely thetreatment, though they might be the cause, of a pasty face and a"nervous breakdown," it was none of his business to interfere with ayoung gentleman who evidently considered himself a man of the world. Sothey smoked and talked, and when, after a little while, Cecil confessedhimself tired, and went off to bed, he left behind him a completelybored and rather annoyed squatter.

  "Well, Norah, what do you think of him?"

  Norah, sitting meekly knitting in the drawing-room, looked up andlaughed as her father came in.

  "Think? Why, I don't think much, Daddy."

  "No more do I," said Mr. Linton, casting his long form into anarmchair. "Of all the spoilt young cubs!--and that's all it is, I shouldsay: clearly a case of spoiling. The boy isn't bad at heart, but he'snever been checked in his life. Well, I'm told it's risky for a fatherto bring up his daughter unaided, but I'm positive the result is worsewhen an adoring mother rears a fatherless boy! Possibly I've maderather a boy of you--but Cecil's neither one thing nor the other. Whydidn't you come out, my lass?"

  "Felt too bad tempered!" said Norah; "he makes me mad when he speaks toyou in that condescending way of his, Daddy. I'll be calmer to-morrow."She smiled up at her father. "Have a game of chess?"

  "It would be soothing, I think," Mr. Linton answered. He laughed. "It'sreally pathetic--our Darby and Joan existence to be ruffled like this!Thank goodness, he's in bed, for to-night, at any rate!" They got outthe chessmen, and played very happily until Norah's bedtime.

  "Do you ride, Cecil?" Mr. Linton asked next morning at breakfast.

  "Ride? Oh, certainly," Cecil answered. "I suppose you're all very keenon that sort of thing up here?"

  "Well, that's how we earn our living," his uncle remarked. "Norah is myright-hand man on the run."

  "Ah, how nice! Do you find it hard to get labour here?"

  "Oh, we get them," said Mr. Linton, his eyes twinkling. "But I preferto catch 'em young. We're cutting out cattle for trucking to-day. Wouldyou care to come out?"

  "Delighted," said the nephew, glancing without enthusiasm at hisflannels. "But I didn't dress for riding."

  "Oh, we're not absolute sticklers for costume here," Mr. Linton said,laughing outright. "Wear what you like--in any case, we shan't start foran hour."

  It was more than that before they finally got away. The delay was dueto waiting for the visitor, whose toilet was a lengthy proceeding. Whenat length he sauntered out, in blissful ignorance of the fact that hehad been keeping them waiting, no one could have found fault with hisclothes--a riding suit of very English cut, with immensely baggybreeches, topped by an immaculately folded stock, and a smart tweedcap.

  "That feller plenty new," said black Billy, gazing at him withastonishment.

  Mr. Linton chuckled as he swung Norah to her saddle.

  "Let's hope his horsemanship is equal to his attire!"

  Norah smiled in answer. Bobs was dancing with impatience, and shewalked him round and round, keeping an eye on her cousin.

  A steady brown mare had been saddled for Cecil--one of the "generalutility" horses to be found on every station. He cast a critical eyeover her as he approached, glancing from her to the horses of his uncleand cousin. Brown Betty was a thoroughly good stamp of a stock horse,with plenty of quality; while not, perhaps, of the class of Monarch andBobs, she was by no means a mount to be despised. That Cecildisapproved of her, however, was evident. There was a distinct curl onhis lip as he gathered up the reins. However, he mounted without aword, and they set off in pursuit of Murty O'Toole, the head stockman,who was already halfway to the cutting-out paddock.

  The Clover Paddock of Billabong was famous--a splendid stretch ofperfect green, where the cattle moved knee-deep in fragrant blossomingclovers, with pink and white flowers starring the wide expanse. At oneend it was gently undulating plain, towards the other it came down in agradual slope to the river, where tall gums gave an evergreen shelterfrom winter gales or summer heat. The cattle were under them as theriders came up--great, splendid Shorthorns, the aristocracy of theirkind, their roan sides sleek, their coats in perfect condition, and asprinkling of smaller bullocks whose inferiority in size wascompensated by their amazing fatness. It was evident that this weekthere would be no difficulty in making up the draft for the Melbournemarket.

  The cattle were mustered into one herd; no racing or hastening now, butwith the gentle consideration one should extend to the dignified andportly. They moved lazily, as if conscious of their own value. Cecil,hurrying a red-and-white bullock across a little flat, was met by aglare from Murty O'Toole, and a muttered injunction to "go aisy wid'em," followed by a remark that "clo'es like
thim was only fit to gomustherin' turkeykins in!" Luckily the latter part of the outbreak wasunheard by Cecil, who was quite sufficiently injured at the first, andfavoured Murty with a lofty stare that had the effect of throwing theIrishman and black Billy into secret convulsions of mirth.

  Norah rode not far from her father as they brought the cattle out intothe open and to the cutting-out camp--a spot where the beaten groundshowed that very often before such scenes had been enacted. Thebullocks knew it, and huddled there contentedly enough in a compactbody, while slowly Mr. Linton and Murty rode about them, singling outthe primest. Once marked down, O'Toole would slip between the bullockand his mates and edge him away, where Billy took charge of him,preventing his returning to the mob. With the first two or three thiswas not quite easy: but once a few were together they gave littletrouble, feeding about calmly: and generally a bullock cut out from themain body would trot quite readily across to the others.

  Privately, Cecil Linton thought it remarkably dull work. All that hehad read of station life was unlike this. He had had visions of farmore exciting doings--mad gallops and wild cattle, thoroughbred horses,kangaroo hunts and a score of other delights. Instead, all he had to dowas to tail after a lot of sleepy bullocks and then watch them sortedout by some men whose easy-going ways were unlike anything he hadimagined. He had no small opinion of his riding, and he yearned fordistinction. The very sight of Norah, leaning a little forward,keenness on every line of her face, was an offence to him. He could seenothing whatever to be keen about. Yawning, he lit a cigarette.

  Just then a bullock was cut out and pointed in the way he should go. Helumbered easily past black Billy, apparently quite contented with hisfate; and Billy, seeing another following, gave a crack of his whip tospeed him on his way, and turned to deal with the newcomer. The firstbullock became immediately seized with a spirit of mischief. Heflourished his heels in the air, turned at right angles and made offtowards the river at a gallop.

  Cecil, busy with his cigarette, saw Norah sit up suddenly and tightenher hand on the bridle. Simultaneously Bobs was off like a shot--tearingover the paddock a little wide of the fugitive. The race was a shortone. Passing the bullock, the bay pony and his rider swung in sharplyand the lash of Norah's whip shot out. The bullock stopped short,shaking his head; then, as the whip spoke again, he wheeled and trottedback meekly to the smaller mob. Behind him Norah cantered slowly. Thework of cutting out had not paused and no one seemed to notice theincident. But Cecil saw his uncle smile across at the little girl, andcaught the look in Norah's eyes as she smiled back. She and Bobs tookup their station again, silently watchful.

  Cecil was fired with ambition. Norah's small service had seemed to himridiculously easy; still, insignificant though everyone appeared toregard it, it was better than doing nothing. He had not the faintestdoubt of his own ability, and the idea that riding in a decorous suburbmight not fit him for all equine emergencies he would have scouted. Hegathered up his reins, and waited anxiously for another beast to breakaway.

  One obliged him presently; a big shorthorn that decided he had stayedlong enough in the mob, and suddenly made up his mind to seek anotherscene. Norah had already started in pursuit when she saw her cousinsend his spurs home in Betty, and charge forward. So she pulled up theindignant Bobs, who danced, and left the field to Cecil.

  Betty took charge of affairs from the outset. There was no move in allthe cattle-game that she did not understand. Moreover, she was justlyindignant at the spur-thrust, which attention only came her way ingreat emergencies; and the heavy hand on her mouth was gall andwormwood to her. But ahead was a flying bullock, and she was a stockhorse, which was sufficient for Betty.

  "That feller brown mare got it all her own way!" said Billy, indelight.

  She had. Cecil, bumping a little in the saddle, had no very clear ideaof how things were going. He had a moment of amazement that the quietmare he had despised could make such a pace. Once he tried to steadyher, but at that instant Betty was not to be steadied. She galloped on,and Cecil, recovering some of his self-possession, began to think thatthis was the thing whereof he had dreamed.

  The bullock was fat and scant of breath. It did not take him very longto conclude that he had had enough, especially when he heard the hoofsbehind him. It was sad, for close before him was the shade of the treesand the murmur of the river; but discretion is ever the better part ofvalour, particularly if one be not only valorous but fat. He pulled upshort. Betty propped without a second's hesitation, and swung round.

  To Cecil it seemed that the world had dropped from under him--and thenrisen to meet him. The brown mare turned, in the bush idiom, "on asixpence," but Cecil did not turn. He went on. The onlookers had avision of the mare chopping round, as duty bade her, to head off thebullock, while at right-angles a graceful form in correct Englishgarments hurtled through the air in an elegant curve. When he camedown, which seemed to be not for some time, it was into a shady clumpof wild raspberries--and only those who know the Victorian wildraspberry know how clinging and intrusive are its hooked thorns. Twolegs kicked wildly. There was no sound.

  When the rescuing party extricated Cecil from his involuntary botanicalresearches he was a sorry sight. His clothes were torn in many places,and his face and hands badly scratched, while the red stains of theraspberries had turned his light tweeds into something resembling animpressionist sketch. It was perhaps excusable that he had altogetherlost his temper. He burst out in angry abuse of the mare, the bullock,the raspberry clump, and the expedition in general--anger which thescarcely concealed grins of the stockmen only served to intensify.Norah, who had choked with laughter at first, but had becomesympathetic as soon as she saw the boy's face, extracted numerousthorns from his person and clothing, and murmured words of regret,which fell on unheeding ears. Finally his uncle lost patience.

  "That'll do Cecil," he said. "Everyone comes to grief occasionally--takeyour gruel like a man. Come on, Norah. Murty's waiting." Saying which,he put Norah up, and they rode off, while Billy held the brown mare'srein for Cecil, who mounted sulkily. Something in his uncle's faceforbade his replying. But in his heart came the beginning of a grudgeagainst the Bush, Billabong in general, and Norah in particular. Lateron, he promised himself, there might come a chance to work it off.

  For the present, however, there was nothing to be done but nurse hisscratches and his grievance; so he sat sulkily on Betty, and took nofurther active part in the morning's work, the consciousness of actinglike a spoilt child not tending to improve his temper. Nobody took anynotice of him. One by one the bullocks were cut out, until betweentwenty and thirty were ready, and then the main mob was left to wanderslowly back to the river, while O'Toole and Billy started with theothers to the paddock at the end of the run, which was their firststage in the seventeen-mile journey to the trucking yards at Cunjee.They moved off peacefully through the blossoming clover.

  "Luckily they don't be afther knowin' what's ahead av thim!" saidMurty. He lifted his battered felt hat to Norah, as he rode away.

  "We'll go down and see how high the river is before we go home," saidMr. Linton.

  So they rode down to the river, commented on the unusual amount ofwater for so late in the year, inspected the drinking places, paid avisit to a beast in another paddock, which had been sick, but was nowapparently in rude health, and finally cantered home to lunch. Brownieprudently refrained from comment on Cecil's scratched countenance,further than to supply him with large quantities of hot water in hisroom, together with a small pair of pliers, which she remarked were'andy things for prickles. Under this varied treatment Cecil becamemore like himself, and recovered his spirits, though a soreness yetremained at the thought of the little girl who had done so easily whathe had failed so ignominiously in trying to do. He decided definitelyin his own mind that he did not like Norah.