*CHAPTER XII*
*DOWN THE RIVER*
"When the full moon flirts with the perigee tide, On a track of silver away we ride,-- Oh, glorious times we have together, My boat and I in the summer weather." ELLA WHEELER WILCOX.
The boat was sighted from Robinsons' some time before its nose grated onthe shingle at the landing-place.
Isaac, the younger son, a giant in stature and a prime favourite withJoe, was at the landing-stage. Seizing the bow what time it touchedland, he half lifted, half dragged the boat two-thirds of her length outof the water, and made her fast to an old stump.
"Mother's so glad you've come, sir. She wants to talk with you aboutthat boy of Maguire's, who's bin givin' us a lot of trouble."
"Won't be able to stay long, Ike. We've got to be at Beacon Point tonight. We just put in for a cup of tea and a bite. Mother's inside, Isuppose? I'll go in and have a chat with her."
"You'll find her in the kitchen, sir. When we saw you roundin'Piccaniny Point we knew you'd be here for tea, and mother's lookin'after things."
"I hope she won't go to any trouble. A mouthful is all we want."
"Well, you know mother, sir. She feels that nothin' is near goodenough."
"Any pancakes for tea, Ike?"
"Pancakes! Why, of course. That's what mother's makin' now. She knewthat'd be the first thing you'd be askin' fur, Joe."
"Rather, Ike!" said Joe, pursing his mouth and drawing in his breathwith the peculiar, half-whistling, unwriteable sound which boysinstinctively make when visions of goodies arise. More especially whensuch goodies come within measurable distance of consumption.
Master Joe had a healthy boy's appetite. The rowing exercise gaveadditional spice to his hunger. Pancake was at that moment the gate ofentry to the boy's very material heaven.
"Tea won't be ready fur a few minutes, Joe. Let's go down to the barn.I was just goin' to rub some more mixture inter the skins when I seenyour boat roundin' the point. Sorry you're goin' on, my son. When Iseen you on the river I ses to meself, ses I, 'By George! Joey an' I'llhave a great night at the 'possums.' I wish to goodness you'd beenstayin'. There'll be a grand moon ter night, an it's very temptin'."
"By gum, ain't it just! It'd be simply, rippin'. 'Member last time Iwas down? That was a grand bit of sport we had. Forty-seven was it, orforty-nine? I know it took a dashed long time to skin 'em."
"Forty-seven it was. We'd do over fifty to-night."
"Well, as mother says, 'What can't be cured must be endured.' By dad!that's a grand wallaby skin! Where'd you get it?"
"Got it larst night." Ike had the Colonial drawl to perfection. "I wasup at the top end of the scrub cultivation paddick, mooseying aroundafter some cockatoos that'd bin skinnin' the corn. It was just aboutdusk, an' I was waitin' in the corner for the cockies, as I knew they'dsoon be leavin' fur their roosts, an' my bes' charnse at 'em was on thewing. They're so 'tarnal cute, yer know, yer carn't git 'em on thecorn."
"I know. Didn't I try my best to stalk 'em the last time I was down,Ike! I got three altogether, you 'member, an' you said it'd be a crestapiece to take home to the girls."
"Waal, as I was sayin', I'd sarcumvented the ole boss cockie, which waskeeping watch in the dead gum-tree that stood in the middle of thepatch, an' was posted in the middle of the corner expectin' them ter flyover every minit. But ole Pincher, who was chevyin' about, starts thisere boss outer the pumpkin vines; they're death on pumpkins, yer know.The dorg made a dash at 'im, an', by jings! he did streak. Greasedlightnin' wasn't in it with 'im. I tried to draw a bead on 'im, but,what with the dusk an' the bushes an' stumps, I couldn't get a goodline. I banged away one barril, but was yards off, I reckon.
"Pincher, he disappeared in a brace of shakes, an' I made sure thevermin ud get through a 'ole in the fence. I was makin' for 'ome, 'causethe cockies, yer know, 'ad all gone. All of a suddent I heers a yelp,an' knew ole Pinch 'ad somehow 'eaded 'im. Reckon 'e missed the 'ole,or the dorg'd never got near 'im. Anyhow, 'e was a-streakin' a bit now,an' Pinch at 'is 'eels. He was makin' fur the maize agen. I lined 'imthis time all right, though it was a longish shot; about sixty-five Ireckon; an' dropped 'im clean at the very edge."
"It's a prime pelt, anyway."
"Yaas, 'e was a grand ole buck fur a wally; about the biggest I've gotthis season."
"How many skins have you taken, Ike?"
"Two more'n I'd 'ave six dozen."
"Gettin' a good price for 'em?"
"Waal, Jack Croft, 'e offered me nine shillin' a dozen fur 'em. Thereare about twenty kangaroos among 'em. Jack reckoned it was a stiffprice, an' 'e sed 'e'd not offer anythin' near it but fur the kangarooskins, which 'e 'ad a fancy fur."
"Old Jack can put it on, you know."
"Oh, I know Jack all right! Me an' 'im's 'ad dealin' afore. Jacky'snot too bad, but 'e knows 'ow to draw the long bow. Anyway, ole EbDowse's boat'll be along nex' week. He's sent word ter say as 'e'd do adeal with me fur 'em."
"Better wait an' see what Eb'll shell out for 'em, Ike, I reckon.German Harry, up the river, says he can always knock a shillin' a dozenmore out of Eb than Jack."
"I ain't hurryin', Joe."
Just then the welcome supper cooee reached their ears. The boys lost notime in getting to the supper-table. Joe instinctively eyed thecontents. Cold streaky bacon; a big dish of fried pumpkin and potatoes;a mountain of home-made bread, sliced; a basin of prime butter; Capegooseberry jam galore, and amber-tinted honey in the comb. What morecould any hungry lad desire?
Mary Robinson, a great tease, caught Joe's glance, and said, with anamused smile, "No pancakes to-night, Joe."
Joe was abashed for the fraction of a second. Quickly rallying, helaughingly said, "Tell another, Mary, while your mouth's hot."
"Very well, my boy! If you don't believe me ask our black tom-cat. Hechased a mouse into the batter and upset the bowl; so there!"
"Mary, Mary!" remonstrated Mrs. Robinson. "There's only a grain oftruth in the pound of fiction she's giving you, Joe. The cat, it istrue, did chase a mouse; but it did not jump into the batter, nor wasthe bowl upset. The pancakes are cooked, with currans in 'em; just thesort you like; and they're keeping hot by the fire."
"Thanks awfully, Mrs. Robinson; I believe _you_ anyway. As for Mary,she's like Sandy M'Intyre's old, toothless sheep-dog."
"How's that, Joe?" interjected Ike.
"Bark's worse than her bite."
"My stars! what originality, what refinement! Sandy's razor is not in itwith master Joe Blain for sharpness. I'll remember this, though, thenext time you ask me to go out to the scrub with you for passion fruit.Anyhow, there's no resemblance between you and Sandy's wonderfulbarker."
"_Indeed!_"
"No; your bark's noisy enough, but your bite's a hundred timesworse--especially when pancakes are about."
With this "Roland" Mary ran out to the kitchen to get the teapot.
Joe made a royal repast, topping off with the hot pancakes at a ratewhich caused his father to dryly remark: "Too much pancake won't helpthe boat along, my boy."
Tea finished, the visitors prepare to continue their voyage. With Ike'spowerful assistance the boat is shoved into the water, and her nosepointed down-stream. In due time Beacon Point is reached.