Chapter VI: Part 6

"I say!" said the patient, suddenly alert. "There's a snake! Do stop, Mrs. Macleod, and let Bill kill the brute."

"Not for fifty snakes!" said Aileen firmly. She brought down the whip with emphasis on Roany's back. The snake, a big brown one, slid away into a patch of bracken.

"I don't believe in letting snakes go," said the patient severely. "You never can tell where it's going to turn up again. It's like leavin' poison lyin' about loose where there's kids. You wouldn't like your own kid to meet that chap if he was runnin' about in the scrub, not thinkin'."

Aileen had a feeling of having been put in the corner by a small boy.

"I know," she said meekly. "And I truly would not leave it, if we had time. But this is a lonely part, and there are no children--and it is very important to get you to a doctor quickly. If we miss the boat, you know, it means waiting a whole day."

"Ah, doctors!" said the boy scornfully. "I knew one once in South Gippsland where a chap broke his laig, same as me, and some one set it, and got him pretty right for the time bein'. They took him home an' wired for a doctor to a place ten mile away, tellin' him what was the matter, so's he'd bring the proper fixin's. He come along after a bit, took off the setting an' looked at the laig, an' said it was set all right, an' he'd left the splints an' things at the hotel, an' he must go an' get them. So he left that laig with nothin' on it but a blanket, an' went off; an' he didn't come back for seven hours!"

"But why?"

"Why? 'Cause he was playin' billiards an' havin' a good time. That's why. They sent ever so many messages to him, an' the poor chap lay there, with his laig swellin' something cruel. Then the doctor come back at last, an' if you'll believe me he'd never brought a thing with him! He took them old bandages an' rough bits of wood they'd used for splints--the things he'd taken off an' chucked aside in the morning--an' put 'em on the laig again: all dirty, they was, from bein' against his ol' workin' pants."

"But why did he not bring the proper things?"

"Nobody never knew. He didn't, anyhow. When that laig was set first, by the chap as did it in the Bush, it was as straight and comft'ble as anything could be. But when that beautiful doctor done it, it wasn't straight. He put on the things quite loose and careless. The man's mate was there, an' said so, an' the doctor flared up like & packet of crackers. 'Do you think I don't know me business?' says he. 'I'm blooming well sure you don't,' says the mate."

"What did he say to that?" Aileen asked.

"Not a thing. You couldn't insult him--he hadn't no decent pride. He just finished tyin' up the poor bloke's laig, an' went off, sayin' he'd come back in three days an' look at him. But the chap suffered very bitter in his heel all night, an' next morning his foot was stickin' out turned half-ways round. They sent five mile into the Bush for the man that had set it first, to come an' straighten it an' set it again."

"Did he?"

"No, he had sense. He said he couldn't take the responsibility of touching it. So they packed the poor chap an' his laig up on a stretcher, with the laig just as the doctor had left it, an' sent him up to the Melbourne Hospital. They said it was the laughin'-stock of the whole place--they asked was it a doctor as had done it, or a goanna?"

"I never heard of such a thing!" Aileen breathed. "Did he--was he lame afterwards?"

"Well, he wasn't, but it was luck. And it was ages before he was better, an' him out of work all the time. So that's why I ain't in any hurry to get to any ol' doctors. Me laig's comft'ble now, an' I'd like it to stay so."

"But all doctors aren't like that, thank goodness," Aileen said. "I know one who saved my boy's life. And when he comes into a house where there is sickness, you feel as if he had suddenly shouldered all your troubles."

"Oh, I suppose there's good and bad in all trades!" her patient admitted handsomely. "Only that fool Englishman in South Gippsland was the only one I ever met very intimate, so to speak. But I've heard they're good in Bairnsdale."

"I know they are," Aileen assured him. "And there's a big, comfortable hospital where you'll be splendidly looked after. You see, it's all very well now, when you haven't had time to get tired; but you will be glad enough to be in bed after a while."

"I s'pose I will; but I never was in bed a day in me life," he said ruefully. "Oh, well, if I'm fool enough to let a limb hit me, I got to pay for it."

They were approaching the outskirts of the township. Scattered houses came in view, and the roar of the surf grew plainer as they drew near to the narrow lagoon that lies between Cuninghame and the sand hummocks of the Ninety Mile Beach. Above it came three long discordant hoots.

"My word, that's the steamer!" said the man at the back. "Can you get a bit more out of that ol' pony, mum?"

Aileen was already plying the whip, much to Roany's disgust. He shook his head angrily from side to side, and finally broke into a lurching canter. Tom came in view, riding to meet them.

"Hurry all you can!" he said briefly. "The captain has kept the steamer almost as long as he dares; you see, he carries the mail from some places. I'll tell him you're coming."

They turned into the esplanade, and rocked down past the houses and the stores. Near the wharf a knot of people waited, gazing curiously at them. The paddle-steamer was at the wharf, smoke pouring from her funnel. Aileen could see the tall figure of the captain leaning over the railing. He shouted something she could not hear. She pulled up near the wharf, with a sigh of relief.

There were plenty of willing hands to help to carry the patient to the steamer. The captain had offered his cabin, but the boy begged to be left on deck.

"I'll be inside four walls long enough, I expect," he said. "Let's stop out here." So they propped him up where he could look across the lake, with his bandaged leg sticking stiffly out in front of him. He looked at it with a wry smile.

"A nice object, you are!" he said. He held out his hand to Aileen. "Thanks, Mrs. Macleod. If I've ever the luck to be able to do a good turn for you, I'll do it."

"But you would do that if you'd never hurt your leg," she said, laughing. "I think all Gippslanders are ready to do good turns! Take care of yourself, and good luck!" She turned to his mate. "You'll let us know how he gets on?"

"My word, yes," said Bill. He also shook hands vigorously. "Great bit of luck we struck you, mum, anyhow!"

The steamer gave an agonized hoot, and Tom and Aileen sought the wharf hurriedly. They stood, watching, while the big, top-heavy-looking, boat moved slowly out from the wharf, with great churnings of her paddles, and set off down the lagoon towards the lake opening out ahead. Aileen suddenly realized that she was very tired.

"And the washing-up not done!" she said. "It's very bad management to begin the day with such dissipation! Come home, Tom."

"Right-oh!" Tom answered. "I'll lead Jane, and come with you in the buggy." He helped her in, and they jogged back along the esplanade. "Are you very done up, my girl?"

"Oh, a little bit tired," she said. "I think it's more from fear than anything else."

"Well, you had no reason to be afraid," he said. "Your job was all right. I was proud of you! But it wasn't an easy thing to tackle. However, none of us need worry now when we break an odd limb or two: all we have to do is to get as comfortable as possible, light a pipe, and wait for you!"

"If you dare----!" said his wife, laughing.

"Why not? But apart from joking, Aileen, our 'Possum has been having adventures. They told me about it when I was waiting for you at the wharf." He told her the story of the wrecked boat.

"And where is she now?" Aileen asked anxiously. "Is she ill?"

"Her feet and legs are pretty painful, they said. But she wouldn't see a doctor, or stay in Cuninghame; and her father was better, so he took her home yesterday."

"I must go over and see if I can do anything," Aileen said decidedly.

"Well, I thought you'd like to. But are you fit for it, dear?"

"I shall be quite all right, especially when I have some tea!" she said. "Tea is the one thing my soul craves for."

"I'll brew the largest teapot in the house directly we get home," Tom said. "And you will just keep quiet and take things easy. You won't need to do any cooking, will you?"

"I should like to take a basket of things over to the O'Connors," she said. "But I won't do much, really, Tom. I'll starve my poor family on 'Possum's account!"

"If I believed that you would, I'd be contented," he said. "But I know you better. When shall we go over?"

"Oh, after dinner. We'll take Garth--the poor man has had a horrid morning."

Garth did not consider that he had had a horrid morning at all. It was not every day that the thrilling excitement of a broken leg came his way; and later, he had found enormous satisfaction in dusting and tidying the house, and in spurring Horrors to amazing efforts in the kitchen. The housework was done by the time the buggy drew up at the back gate--if the corners were not above reproach, Aileen knew better than to look at them. She looked instead at her little son's glowing face, and kissed him, with moist eyes; and Tom's deep "Well done, old man!" sent Garth into the seventh heaven.

There was a big basket stowed in the back of the buggy when they set off early in the afternoon: such things as might relieve the anxieties of a crippled housekeeper and of a cook of twelve. A big piece of cooked mutton; a crisp, brown loaf of soda bread, and a bundle of scones tied up in a fresh, white cloth; a big cake of the kind that invites hungry people to cut and come again, and, in a special corner, a glass of jelly and a sponge cake, warm yet, and light and puffy: things to tempt an invalid.

"Won't it be 'strordinary to see 'Possum in bed?" Garth chattered. "Do you think she has dungaree nighties, mother?"

O'Connor's farm lay two miles away, in a dark valley between hills covered with gum trees. There was no gate leading into it: only heavy slip-rails, fitting into rusty horse shoes nailed to posts on either side. Like their own farm, it had scarcely any homestead track: they bumped over tussocks and rough ground, and wriggled a tortuous way round logs and clumps of scrub. 'Possum and her father nearly always rode; and the children walked two miles across the paddocks to the little Bush school. There were few wheel-marks on O'Connor's land.

Little Joe was playing on the wood-heap near the door as the Macleods drove up. He greeted Garth with a grin of joy, and Garth's father and mother with shy pleasure.

"How is 'Possum, Joe?" asked Aileen, descending. "Is she asleep?"

"'Poss? Asleep? Gwacious, no!" said 'Possum's brother, in amazement. "She's feeding the calf. Come on down to the shed."

He led the way across the untidy yard. The shed was a half-open place, tenanted by a dray, two ploughs, a harrow, sundry old iron, and a calf. The calf was tied to the wheel of the dray, and at the moment was strenuously objecting to take nourishment, which 'Possum, seated on a wheelbarrow, was endeavouring to administer by means of a baby's bottle. The efforts of the calf to withdraw were frustrated by the combined muscles of Bertha, young Bill and little Polly, who held it firmly in position and talked to it in good plain terms. The calf, however, was obdurate, and at last 'Possum gave up the attempt.

"Oh, let him go!" she said, without noticing the new-comers. "I wouldn't mind if it was on'y his feed, but it's his med'cine as well. We'll hot it up after a bit, Bill, an' try him again."

"Might as well try 'n' pour milk into a gate-post!" said young Bill, disgustedly, prodding, with a bare toe, the calf, which had lain down thankfully on its straw. "Brute! I dunno how Daisy come to have such a mis'rable little runt of a thing!"

"Jolly careless of her," said 'Possum. "Now you just turn me round, an' wheel me up easy, Bert. Don't go an' pitch me out, like you near did comin' down!"

"Let me help," said Tom, stepping forward. Every one jumped, and 'Possum turned a lively pink.

"Sorry," she said gruffly, looking at her bandaged feet, which were thrust over the edge of the wheelbarrow, "I'm lame, like the silly ass I am, so the kids have to wheel me round--that fool of a calf won't drink for Bill, but he gen'lly-as-a-rule will for me. Don't you bother, Mr. Macleod; Bert can get me up all right."

"I don't believe Bertha's half as good in the shafts of a barrow as I am!" Tom retorted. "I've been broken in ever so much longer than she has; I wouldn't trust her not to kick!" Which pleasantry reduced Bertha to suppressed giggles, until she grew alarmingly red in the face.

Tom wheeled the barrow up the steep yard, and paused at the kitchen door. It was a dark, low room, lit only by one small window; but it was spotlessly neat and clean. A rough home-made sofa, from which a coarse rug had been flung back, stood under the window.

"Is that your camp?" Tom asked, indicating the sofa. 'Possum nodded, looking more wretchedly uncomfortable than before.

"If--if you'n' missus 'ud go into the front room, I can get to it," she muttered, crimsoning.

"You can't walk, 'Possum?" Aileen put a hand on her shoulder.

"No, but I can manage." She dropped her voice to a whisper. "Please do take the boss away!"

"I say!" said Tom unhappily. "It isn't fair to shunt me like that, 'Possum." He turned to the silent children. "How did she get to the barrow, Bill?"

"Crawled 'n' rolled," said young Bill briefly. "An' it hurt her like fury."

"Well, you aren't going to crawl and roll this time," said Tom, with decision. "And you can't sit in that barrow all day. Now you just behave yourself, 'Possum; I'm going to make believe you're Garth. You've no idea how handy I got as a nurse when he was ill."

Without giving her time to make any further protest he lifted her gently and carried her across to the sofa, putting her down as easily as though she had been a featherweight, and arranging the rug across her knees. He talked fluently all the time, without looking at her.

"This is a sort of hospital day for us," he said. "You've been trying to drown yourself and fill the lake with cold pork, and the Missus has been setting broken legs until her brain reeled. And Garth has been cook and bottle-washer, and what the family would have done without him I tremble to think. He even made Horrors hurry, and I guess you know what sort of a job _that_ would be, 'Possum! Horrors showed signs of swooning from overwork and brain-fag by the time Garth had finished with him. The missus will tell you all about it. Now I'm off to talk to that calf, with Bill. Come along, Bill. I don't think the calf likes a crowd any more than I do when I've medicine to take." He took the calf's rejected bottle, to which 'Possum had clung instinctively, and went out, Bill at his heels.

"Jus' fancy him carryin' me like that!" 'Possum uttered, her eyes shining. "Ain't he the limit! Oh, you were good to come, Missus!"

"Of course we had to come," Aileen said, shaking up a cushion, and putting her back upon it gently. "Wasn't our station-manager ill!"

'Possum's pale face expanded in a delighted grin.

"Oh, I'm all right," she said. "Leastways, nearly! Me laigs'll be on strike for a few days, they say."

"No chill?" Aileen asked. "Are you truly all right, 'Possum, dear?"

It was not often that a word of endearment came in 'Possum's way. Her eyes, as she raised them to the tall girl bending over her, had something of the utter devotion of a dog.

"Lor, I dunno how to be ill!" she answered. "Don't you bother about me, Missus. If it wasn't for me silly old laigs I'd be as right as pie. I was a bit tired, but I slep' in this morning--never opened an eye till eight o'clock! Nice state the place 'ud get into if I was to do that often."

"And your father?"

"Oh, he's pretty right. Looks a bit washed out, but he's gone off to Coffey's to try an' get another pig. Did they tell you 'about it? Wasn't it rotten luck losin' that other one? He was a real good pig, too!"

"We might have lost you," Aileen said. She bent and kissed the girl lightly on the forehead. A swift wave of colour dyed 'Possum's face, and she caught Aileen's hand and held it tightly for a moment.

"Now we're going to have tea with you, and I'm going to help Bertha get it," said Aileen cheerfully.

"It ain't fit for you--we on'y got enamel cups," said 'Possum unhappily. "An' goodness on'y knows what there is to eat. To-day's bakin' day, by rights, but of course nothin's got done. Have we got any butter, Bert?"

"You've probably pounds and pounds, but I brought some over, just because I was so painfully proud of its colour!" said Aileen, beginning to unpack her basket swiftly. "It wouldn't 'come' last night; I churned it until my arm wouldn't churn any more, and then I hung it in the well all night, and attacked it again at six o'clock this morning. Then it came quite meekly. It's the only way to deal with it in summer, isn't it?" The butter emerged, firm and yellow, from a wrapping of wet cloths and cabbage leaves. "Put that meat in the safe, Bertha, like a good girl--it's a great day for flies. Polly, that's cake; you unwrap it, and if you don't say it's a good cake, I won't be friends with you. Now we'll have scones to try my butter. What have you eaten to-day, 'Possum?"

"Well, I ain't had much feelin' of fancyin' anything," 'Possum admitted. "I tried me porridge, but it was too hot; this ain't much of a day for hot things, is it? You can't eat much on a blazin' day like this."

"She won't eat nothin'," said Bertha, in a high, miserable voice. "I tried an' tried, an' fried her an aig, an' it wasn't any good. Leastways, the aig was good, but she wouldn't eat it. I dunno what to do with her."

"We brought you some of my jelly, and you've just got to eat it," said Garth happily. The jelly glass came from its jar of wet salt, with its contents clear and golden and quivering. 'Possum's eyes rested on it hungrily.

"Now!" said Garth. He demanded a teaspoon of Bertha, and advanced upon the sofa, jelly in hand, and looking ridiculously like his father. "Just you behave yourself, and eat this!"

"It's lovely!" 'Possum whispered to him gratefully.

Aileen, after the first glance, did not look at the sofa. 'Possum never liked eating with an audience--but Garth did not count. He leaned against her, chattering in his eager little voice; and the jelly was disappearing. So Aileen busied herself with Bertha and Polly, making tea and buttering scones. Everything was ready when Tom loomed in the doorway, with young Bill at his heels.

"Bill and I think you people don't understand calves," Tom announced. "You don't take them properly. That fellow leaned up against us, and kissed us, and drank his bottle like any other nice, well-behaved baby. Now Bill and I want ours--don't we, Bill?"

Bill chuckled deeply, casting adoring glances at this cheerful person, who might be "a gent," but nevertheless treated him as a man and a brother. Garth brought the jelly-glass triumphantly to the table.

"She's eaten every bit!" he cried.

"That's lovely!" said Aileen, and smiled at her. "Now she's going to eat my sponge cake and tell me if it isn't good." She took it to 'Possum's side, with a cup of tea, and turned an empty box into a bedside table; and they were all very merry, and ate enormously, while 'Possum nibbled her cake and watched Aileen's smallest movement, and sighed now and then with a content that not even bandaged, aching feet could take away.

"You will take care of yourself, won't you, 'Possum?" Aileen said, when the time came for good-byes. They had all washed up together, and Tom had insisted on sweeping the kitchen, to the great anguish of mind of the sisters O'Connor. "Don't try to walk too soon; and promise to get Bertha to rub you twice a day. You will, Bertha, won't you?"

"My oath!" said Bertha, firmly. "No matter what she says!"

"That's quite right," said Aileen, laughing. "And hide her clothes, Bertha, if she tries to get about before she should!"

"I'll plant 'er boots," said Bertha. "That'll fix 'er!"

Young Bill had helped Tom to put in Roany, and the buggy waited, with the O'Connor family in extended order to bid them good-bye: 'Possum watching from her window, while Bertha helped to stow the empty basket under the seat and tuck in the dust-rug; and Polly was at the gate of the yard, her curls shining in the sun, and ahead, Bill, on a bare-backed pony, careered across the paddock to let down the sliprails. It was something like a Royal Progress; and from the shed came a loud "Ma-a-a-a!" as though in farewell. It was the calf!

*CHAPTER XIV*

*A BOATING HOLIDAY*

"Dad!"

"Yes?" Tom Macleod paused in his task of staking peas, and looked inquiringly at his little son.

"It's a lovely day," Garth said, conversationally. "Isn't it?"

"It is. Did you come out to tell me that?"

"Well, not exactly," Garth hesitated. "Only, it _is_ a nice day. And mother and I were thinking we hadn't had any fish for ages. And we thought it wouldn't be any wonder if the motor got indigestion again, through not being used!"

Macleod grinned.

"You and mother are a pair of old conspirators, and I am your unhappy victim!" he said. "This means, I suppose, that I am to stop earning both your livings and play about in a silly motor-boat all day!"

"You know it isn't a silly boat--it's a beauty!" Garth protested. "And it isn't waste of time, 'cause we'll catch such a lot of fish that it'll save the butcher's bill no end. And there's meat-pies to take out for lunch: mother made 'em yesterday, and they're lovely!"

"I never heard a more convincing set of reasons," Tom said. "Well, if I don't come I suppose you and mother will go off by your wild lones, and eat all the pies, so I suppose I'd better be meek. I say, though, what about bait?"

"'Possum and I caught a lovely lot of shrimps yesterday," said his son demurely.

"Oh, did you? I'd like to know was it the sight of your shrimps that made mother make the pies, or the sight of the pies that sent you after shrimps?"

"It wasn't neither, truly," Garth answered. "She made 'em while I was away. She says it was a brain-wave!"

"I have noticed mother have that species of brain-wave before," said Tom, staking vigorously. "Well, I'll come; but I must finish this row first. Even to catch fish and eat pies I won't leave my precious peas to trail in the dust. Peas are money, young Garth!"

"I'll help you," Garth said eagerly. "If I hand you stakes you'll get on ever so quicker."

"True for you," said his father. They worked together until they came to the end of the row, and Tom stood up, glad to stretch his aching back.

"People with long cheap backs like mine ought never to be asked to double them up," he remarked.

A grey horse and a flapping blue skirt came into view, mounting the hill towards the house.

"There's 'Possum!" Garth-cried. "I wonder would she come with us? May I ask her, Dad?"

"Yes, of course," Tom answered. Garth shot across to the garden gate, and he followed more slowly.

'Possum had lost all outward traces of her accident, except that she walked a little stiffly, and was not yet capable of any hard work. She did as much as possible in the saddle; but for the most part her father had suddenly put down his foot where work for her was concerned--the result of a conversation with Aileen--and the girl was experiencing a most unusual holiday. It almost troubled her: leisure had so little come her way. Now, her father performed all her rough tasks; and Bertha and young Bill gathered the fruit and vegetables, and prepared them for market, while Polly and little Joe tended the fowls, fed the broods of baby chickens, and gathered the eggs. As a kind of favour, 'Possum was permitted to market her produce--with Bill or Bertha as attendant, to jump in and out of the cart and carry the loads into the houses. 'Possum did not enjoy it. "I ain't used to being a lady," she said.

She fell back thankfully on the Macleods; and there were few days when she did not ride up to the cottage on the hill--to potter about the farm with Tom and Garth, and look at the crops and the stock, or to watch Aileen as she worked in the garden or in the house. Aileen was busy with a good deal of sewing in those days, most of which she was careful to conceal when she heard 'Possum's step. One day 'Possum surprised her in the act of working at some pale pink print, and laid her hand gently on the stuff. "Your things is always so pretty," she said wistfully. Whereat Aileen smiled, and remarked vaguely that pink was a good washing colour.

To-day 'Possum professed herself as very willing to join the fishing party: and they set off happily, laden with baskets and quart-pot, to the boat-shed, where Tom dealt mysteriously with the motor. The launch was only a tiny one, fitted up by Mr. Gordon for his fishing expeditions: five or six people filled it comfortably, and it drew so little water that it could be run into the shallowest of bays and creeks. Tom settled 'Possum and Aileen comfortably in the stern, and Garth took up his usual position, as far out of the bow as he could hang his small person with safety. Bran whined distressfully on the shore. Ordinary boating-trips were permitted him; but to bring leaping fish into the boat upset all his calmness, and sent him into such paroxysms of barking that when fishing was part of the programme he had been condemned to remain at home. Garth sorrowed over it, and talked severely to him on the subject of gaining more sense: orations which Bran heard with respect, but which had so far produced no effect.

"Orders, please, ma'am," Tom said, looking up from the digestive apparatus of the little engine. "Where do you want to go?"

"I want to explore this arm of the lake," Aileen replied promptly. "You know, we have never been up to the end, and we've always planned to do so. We might get some fishing in the pools, 'Possum says; and if we don't, we could go down to the lake itself after lunch and fish in earnest. Does that meet with your worshipful approval?"

"Sounds very jolly," Tom said. "All right, then, we'll go exploring first. Ready?"

They slid away from the little jetty, and turned up the arm of the lake. It was like a river pushing itself in among the hills. Near its outlet it was wide, and on stormy days there was a choppy sea at its mouth; but as it wound its sinuous course inland it grew smooth and tranquil and even narrower, save that now and then at a sudden turn it broadened into a deep and quiet pool. Then it would wind away again, each time seeming the last, until at length it narrowed to nothing, and the blue water vanished in a tangle of driftwood and rubbish brought by the slow tide to the end of its tortuous journey.

They swung round bend after bend. Gum and wattle trees bordered the water: and sometimes they came to a little clearing, where a settler's cottage stood, trim and neat in its setting of orchard and garden, with fowls pecking contentedly near the homestead fences, and perhaps barefooted children running about. One such clearing led to 'Possum's home, though the trees hid the house; they passed the little jetty where lay the sailing boat which had so nearly cost two lives--little the worse apparently for its long immersion. Two fishermen had towed it in next day and righted it--empty of all spare gear, but without damage. 'Possum gave a little shudder as she looked at it.

"No more sailing for me just yet awhile!" she uttered. "I seem to have lost me taste for it!"

They went on and on, winding and twisting through the forest, which grew thicker and thicker. Often it seemed certain that they had come to the end, as they entered a pool with no apparent outlet; but, as they glided farther, the water opened before them in another bend, and yet another, and another. Deep fern gullies came down to the water's edge, dark and beautiful, and full of the chiming of bell-birds: and sometimes they heard the quick swish and crack of the stockwhip bird. They landed in one gully, where 'Possum said she had twice seen lyre-birds: and by great good luck, and patiently sitting on a log for twenty minutes, they actually caught a glimpse of a pair of the queer, shy birds, dancing solemnly on a mound, uttering strange sounds.

"They're copyin'--they're just born mimics," 'Possum whispered. "Listen--they've heard a sawmill somewhere!" And indeed the sounds were nothing but the harsh rip of a saw through timber. They changed in a moment to the yap of a dog: which so enchanted Garth that he fell bodily off the log, and the lyre-birds promptly disappeared.

"Well, you are a goat!" said Tom.

"I just am," Garth admitted penitently: "I don't know what made me overbalance. I'm sorry."

"Well, you hadn't much log to lie on," Tom said, relenting as he looked at the tiny limb where the small boy had been perched. "Can't be helped, at all events."

"You had jolly good luck to see 'em at all," 'Possum said. "I been about the Bush all me life, an' I haven't seen 'em half a dozen times. But that gully's always a haunt for birds--nobody hardly ever goes there. Look--there's a blue wren."

"Oh!--the lovely thing!" Aileen breathed.

He was certainly a lovely thing--a proud little person of black and enamel-blue, with a blue cap and a deep-blue tail nearly as long as his whole body. He was very busy, strutting happily about the ground or fluttering from twig to twig with a rapid flight that made him look like a glancing jewel. Finally he perched on a bough and broke into a little song as exquisite as himself: and then dashed off in a great hurry to find his mate.

"What a jolly little chap!" Garth uttered.

"He's a dear, ain't he?" 'Possum said. "An' his little mate's as plain as he's pretty, but she's a dear, too. Look--there's a couple of honey-eaters!" She pointed out a pair of dainty black and yellow birds, hanging head downwards under a patch of eucalyptus blossom. They had long, curved, slender beaks, in and out of which darted busy tongues ending in little brushes that swept the honey from the flowers.

"But they're exquisite!" Aileen uttered. "I didn't know we had anything so lovely."

"There's dozens of different sorts of honey-eaters, an' they're all lovely," 'Possum said. "Some day we'll go out, will we, Missus, an' spend a whole day watchin' birds?"

"I would love to," Aileen said.

"Bert came home from school once, an' said they'd been reading a bit o' poitry by some bloke that said Australian birds hadn't any songs," 'Possum said, with disgust. "Well, I s'pose a bloke has to be clever to write poitry, but I don't reckon he knew much about Australia. I wouldn't ask anything better than our own of magpie singin' in the early morning, or the thrush, or that little blue wren, or any of the warblers--an' there's dozens an' dozens of others.. Even the ol' butcher-bird can sing a fair treat. I reckon he was a silly bloke, don't you?"

Aileen ventured a mild defence of the poet.

"I don't think he meant that we have no songbirds," she said. "I think he only tried to say that some of our handsomest birds were songless."

'Possum tilted her nose.

"Well, people that make up poitry have a right to be careful," she said severely. "Kids in schools pay an awful lot of attention to what they say, an' it's up to them not to lead 'em wrong!" After which Aileen defended no more.

They went back to the boat, and journeyed on, presently coming on a new sight for the Macleods. A blacks' camp stood on a natural clearing near a creek that ran down into the lake-arm: a rough "wurley," built of interlaced boughs, with a bit of sacking hanging down for a door. Hot as the day was, a little fire smouldered between two big stones. The only person visible, at first, was a tiny black baby, tumbling about on the ground without a rag of clothing; but as Tom stopped the engine, the sacking over the door was lifted, and a man and a woman came out. They were young, and the woman was not bad-looking, and her dress was fairly neat; but the man was an evil-looking creature, ragged and slouching, with a furtive, unpleasant gaze.

The woman picked up the baby, and they came down to the water's edge, looking curiously at the boat and its occupants. The man held out a rough boomerang he was making, and offered it for sale.

"I've no money with me," Tom said. "Would you like it, Garth? I can tell him to come to the house to be paid, if you would."

"Don't you!" said 'Possum, in a quick whisper. "It ain't worth buyin'--those fellers don't know how to make a decent boomerang. They're on'y sham things, made to catch silly visitors----" She pulled herself up, and turned scarlet. Tom laughed.

"Bless you, 'Possum, I always get truth from you," he said. He shook his head at the man. "No, thanks," he said; and the black fellow looked surlier than ever. The woman uttered a quick jabber of words that included something about "bacca."

"Oh, they can have that," Tom said. He took a piece of tobacco from his pocket and tossed it to the man, who caught it deftly, his heavy face lightening for a moment. Then the boat chugged her way onward, and they lost sight of the little clearing.

"'Fraid I was a bit rude that time," said 'Possum. "But if you once let one of those fellers come to your house, you're never free of them. They'll turn up at any hour and want tucker and baccy; an' what's more, they'll tell their friends, and you'll have them callin' too. And they'd steal the very clothes off your back. Nothin's safe from them--the washin' out on the line, an' the chickens, an' the things in the shed. They're a caution when they take to hangin' round a place."

"But won't they come in any case?" asked Aileen.

"Oh, they may, of course. But they're queer people; if once they're told to call at a place they seem to think they've got a hold on it for keeps, an' they'll come back for years an' years."

"Where do they live, 'Possum?"

"Those people have most likely been in one of the settlements--Ramahyuck or Lake Tyers. The woman's dress looks like it: she'd never be as neat as that if she hadn't been in a mission station. They treat 'em jolly well there--give 'em decent little cottages to live in, an' just enough work to keep 'em going. But they always break out now an' then, an' one or two'll clear out to the Bush an' camp for a while. They'll go back when the cold weather comes--or before that, if they aren't pickin' up enough food. An' they don't much mind where an' how they pick it up, I can tell you."

"Why wouldn't you let Dad buy the boomerang, 'Poss?" asked Garth.

"I'd make you a better one meself," 'Possum answered. "It's really only the old men who know much about either makin' or throwin' boomerangs: none of these young ones'll bother themselves. You could throw that affair he was makin' into the air, same as you could any old stick, but it wouldn't return to you. Most people don't know the difference"--she grinned at Tom shamefacedly--"an' they get a sale for all sorts of rubbishy stuff among the summer visitors. But it's no more real black's stuff than I am. That gets harder to buy every year, because the old men who used to make the things are dying out."

They had been gliding along gently, the water growing steadily shallower. Suddenly, they came upon the end of the arm--a pool like hundreds of other pools through which they had passed, save that in each of the others there had been an outlet, and here there was none. The water ended. All round them the trees frowned down upon the still surface, where leaves and sticks floated idly, never to get away: doomed to wash into the rubbish along the shore, or to become water-logged, and finally to sink to the muddy bottom. There was something unnaturally eerie and still about the place. Even the birds had deserted it: there was no longer the happy sound of their singing and twittering. Far overhead a fish-hawk sailed lazily.

"Ugh!" said Aileen, shivering a little. "I don't like this place. Let us turn back."

So they turned and drifted into wholesome blue water, passing the blacks' little camp and the gullies and clearings that led back to the country they knew. In one gully they moored the boat and made their fire, eating their luncheon among the limbs of a fine old tree that had fallen and lay upon its side, its gnarled-boughs making splendid natural arm-chairs. The birds were very tame: one little brown honey-eater came hopping near them for crumbs, and finally perched on the toe of Tom's boot, where it remained in a quaint attitude of alert attention. Then they fished the pools, with varying success, and at last gave it up and travelled swiftly down the arm until they reached the lake itself. For the last half-mile there was little need for the engine. The current had been steadily growing in power; at length it whisked them round bend after band, until it brought them out into the open water, and set swiftly towards the Entrance, where the great grey piers guarded the lane of water that led out to the breakers.

"You wouldn't have much chance if you drifted out here without oars," 'Possum remarked. "The current joins the one that sweeps down the lakes from ever so far up, an' don't they just race out to sea! There was a party of girls in a boat--visitors--got into that current last year, an' went bobbin' along towards the Entrance. They'd been told it was risky, so they lost their heads an' dropped an oar, an' then, of course, they had no chance at all."

"Were they taken out?" Aileen asked.

"No, but it was luck they weren't. They were mighty close to the Entrance when some people in a motor-boat saw 'em an' chased 'em--just managed to stop 'em in time. They'd have been in the surf in three minutes, an' no boat could live there unless it was jolly well handled. You'll see the fishing-boats comin' in sometimes, when they've been out with the nets after a shoal of salmon, and it just is exciting! Even with four good men pullin', it's risky enough to bring a big boat through those breakers. Dad seen one turned clean over one day, an' one man was caught underneath it an' killed. An' that was a great big sea-goin' fishin'-boat, not the sort of little cockle-shell thing that people pull round on the lakes."

"Poor chap! I did not know that the fishermen went outside the entrance: I thought they only fished in the lakes," Tom remarked.

"They fish wherever they can earn a livin'," said 'Possum drily.

They came out upon the wide surface of the lake, and ran across to a bay that nearly always held fish. To-day it lived up to its reputation, and soon they were hauling out whiting and big pink schnapper, whose sides were like live opal as they came out of the water. Tom fished scientifically, with a rod that was the pride of his heart: the others bobbed cheerfully with hand lines and sinkers, and were filled with joy because their results were as good. Their basket was full when they turned homewards in the evening.

"Tell about the time when Joe got bushed, 'Possum," Garth pleaded.

"That ain't anything to tell about," said 'Possum reprovingly. "And besides, you know already."

"Yes, but I like to hear it again," Garth begged.

"We haven't heard, at all events," Tom said. "Go on, 'Possum."

"Well, it's nothin' much," 'Possum said, reluctantly: to tell Garth stories was one thing, but it was quite another to be forced to retail them to Garth's parents. "Joe went off on his own into the Bush one afternoon--on'y four, he was--an' next thing I knew was, it was near dark, an' no Joe. Dad was out in the boat that night, so I left word for him, an' put all the other kids to bed an' made the fire safe, an' started off."

"Into the Bush?"

"Yes, of course. That's where Joe was. Well, I pounded through the jolly old scrub all night--no luck, an' I was pretty worried, 'cause Joe wasn't no more'n four. An' all me clothes got tore, an' I was scratched near to bits, an' I kept thinkin', if that was all the fun I was gettin' out of it, an' me past fourteen, how about poor old Joe?"

"But you found him, 'Possum?" Garth cried eagerly.

"Just about daybreak, I did--in an old hollow stump. Crawled in, he had, an' there he was, lyin' asleep, happy as Larry. Not any trouble for Joe. He woke up, an' I was the first thing he saw, an' he laughed all over his dear old dirty face. 'Where's me porridge, 'Poss?' he says. He always was just about the limit!"

"What about your father?" Aileen asked.

"Oh, he got home about two o'clock, an' seen the note I left, but he reckoned if I couldn't find Joe he couldn't, so he turned in. Dad never worries about things. He says everything'll come out in the wash, if you leave it long enough."

They reached the jetty, and ran gently alongside. 'Possum hopped out nimbly, in spite of her sore feet, and helped to steady the boat while Aileen followed more carefully with the fish and the empty luncheon baskets. They left Tom to put the engine to bed, aided by Garth, and went slowly up the hill.

"Christmas will be in three days," Aileen said.

"I suppose so," 'Possum answered. "It don't make much difference to us. I'll have to kill a turkey for the kids' dinner, I suppose." She paused at the gate. "I won't come in, Missus: it's late, an' I better be gettin' home."

"You must take some fish," said Aileen, quickly halving the catch and placing 'Possum's share in an old sugar-bag. "No, that's not too much at all: there are more of you to eat it. And you know Polly loves fish!" They exchanged a fishy hand-grip. "Oh, and, 'Possum, come over to see us on Christmas afternoon, won't you?"

"Seems to me I come most days," said 'Possum, laughing.

"But we want you on Christmas Day. Will you come?"

"Why, yes, I'll come--thanks," said the girl, laughing. "Catch me stayin' away, when you'll be bothered with me. Well, so long!" She limped off to where her old horse slept peacefully under the quince tree.

*CHAPTER XV*

*SANTA CLAUS AND CLOTHES*

Garth woke to a blissful Christmas morning.

The end of his bed gave ample proof that his father's dismal forebodings about Santa Claus had not been needed: a bulky stocking, with strange hollows and protuberances, ornamented one post and yielded such treasures as a new bridle, a pair of leather leggings, and a stockwhip, with other offerings showing clearly that the saint fully realized that this particular boy had moved from the city. That was good: and good it was, on his way to his bath, to meet Bran, resplendent in a new collar. But when an enormous bundle on his chair at breakfast-time revealed the very desire of his heart, a dainty, light saddle, Garth was speechless. He could only hug his father and mother again and again, and feel the saddle lovingly, and smile at them in a silence that they quite understood.

Aileen was smiling, too, at what she found on her plate: books and music, a very new aluminium saucepan, a soap-saver for the kitchen, and, tucked away under the rest, a little brooch within which a black opal gleamed mysteriously, full of dark fire. Aileen loved black opals: but she regarded them as belonging to the old times when evening dress and balls and theatres were as common as working overalls and fowl-rearing and hoeing now. She shook her head at Tom.

"You shouldn't--bless you!"

"Oh, I had to!" he said; "I couldn't help it. I haven't altogether forgotten the girl who liked pretty things."

"She's very contented to have put them away," said Aileen.

"I know. But I wanted to see her in one," he said obstinately. Whereupon Aileen, to please him, pinned the brooch in her overall, and found herself greatly enjoying it as she prepared dinner.

They jogged to church behind Roany, and exchanged greetings with a few people they knew and with many to whom they were strangers--except that every one knew that they were "the new, hard-working lot that's come to Gordon's farm," and being simple, kindly-minded Gippsland settlers, saw no reason why they should wait to be formally introduced. Then they came home to a happy Christmas dinner--everything cold, and therefore as it should be, with the thermometer at 95 deg.--after which, by mere force of habit, Aileen was about to go to work in the garden, but was restrained by Tom, who remarked that there were some things not done in decent families, and placed her forcibly in a long chair on the veranda with a new book.

'Possum came through the house presently. A feeling that something was due to a day which evidently meant far more to the Macleods than it had ever done to her, had induced her to put on her new dungaree dress, and she was stiffly uncomfortable. Dungaree obligingly fades as soon as it is washed: when new it is a rather deep hard blue, and the wearer looked hot and red-faced, and crackled as she walked. She stood in the doorway looking down at Aileen, who had put on a white frock in honour of Christmas, and, with her shining hair against the pale green canvas of her long chair, was like the spirit of spring and coolness. She put up a slim hand and took 'Possum's work-roughened one.

"I'm too lazy to get up, 'Possum," she said. "Come and sit down."

"It ain't often one sees you lazy," 'Possum answered, leaning back in a chair, and promptly sitting up again, since the position brought her great boots too baldly into view.

"I have been bullied shamefully," Aileen said, casting a severe glance at Tom, who bore it with cheerfulness. "Goodness knows my broad beans are calling for me, but I'm not allowed to go near them. What have you been doing, 'Possum?"

"Oh, the usual thing. Dad's away shearin', so I've got to be pretty busy again: and anyhow, it's about time I was; my feet are all right, an' I'm full-up of loafin'. Seems to me," said 'Possum, "that loafin's all very well for a bit, an' then it gets on your nerves. The kids have been jolly good, an' I pretend not to see a lot o' things they do or they don't do; but there's lots o' times I'd give me ears to be doin' the work myself."

"That is pride, which is a thing all you women suffer from," Tom said. "She"--indicating Aileen--"has violent attacks of it whenever I wash up, or sweep a room, or do any of the things she imagines she does better than I do. Of course, it's only a delusion on her part, because I'm really a first-class housemaid: but there it is. It's a pity, because otherwise she has rather a nice character!"

'Possum grinned. She was beginning to understand what she called Tom's "foolin'," and was no longer bewildered and slightly alarmed when he chaffed her. Nevertheless, she had not yet come to the point of chaffing in return, and so she thought it more prudent to change the subject.

"Where's Garth?" she asked.

"Garth is careering over the hills and far away on a brand-new saddle--and Jane," said Tom. "There is also a new bridle, and he has new leggings--the latter must be exceedingly uncomfortable on a day like this, but he insisted on putting them on. He's awfully pleased with himself. I don't think it's much of a Christmas for Jane; she probably prefers him bare back."

"My word, he must be proud!" 'Possum uttered. "He told me the other day he was goin' to save up for a saddle, 'cause he couldn't go askin' you to get it, with you buyin' so much fertilizer: an' he wanted to know how long it would take him. Said he'd got ninepence. I didn't know what to say to the poor little kid."

"Well, he has the saddle now, and I sincerely trust I won't have so many pairs of knickerbockers to mend," Aileen remarked. "Bare back riding may be fun for a boy, but it's destruction to his trousers!"

"Yes, ain't it?" 'Possum agreed. "I'm always preachin' to Bill, but of course he don't take any notice--you wouldn't expect him to!"

"You wouldn't let young Bill hear you say that," Tom remarked.

"Not much I wouldn't," 'Possum grinned. "Bill's too much inclined to kick over the traces as it is, without me givin' him any encouragement. I reckon I'll have me hands full with him yet."

"Poor old Bill! I see storms ahead for him," said Tom, rising and stretching his long form. "This is a hard country for men since women got the vote! I think I'll go and find Garth, and we'll compare notes on our troubles."

"Don't be late for tea, or 'Possum and I will eat all the Christmas cake!" Aileen called after him. "You'll feel that more than anything I can do with my old vote!" He flung a laughing rejoinder at her, and vanished round the corner of the veranda.

For a few minutes after his footsteps died away Aileen was silent. She was wondering how to make her gifts to 'Possum without hurting the girl's feelings. Underneath the queer, abrupt exterior she knew there lay a sensitiveness so easily wounded that only the most delicate handling would succeed--and 'Possum's independence was a sturdy growth. She might resent the presents altogether: for a moment Aileen grew almost sorry that she had prepared them, now that the time came for them to be given.

"I believe I've got stage-fright," she thought.

'Possum opened the way herself.