*CHAPTER XIV*
*CHRISTMAS FUN AND FROLIC*
"It was the time when geese despond And turkeys make their wills; The time when Christians to a man Forgive each other's bills. It was the time when Christmas glee The heart of childhood fills." BRUNTON STEPHENS.
Daylight had barely broken. The only stir in the household is thatproduced by Joe, whose slumber had been disturbed by the persistentcrawling of flies across his face.
There are three things in animated nature which run each other veryclosely for the supremacy in downright tenacity to purposefulcussedness. Pig, Hen, Fly--these three! And of the three, thecussedest and most exasperatingly tenacious to its rooted purpose ofsqueezing in between one's eyelids, sinking a well in the corner ofone's eye, or climbing the inside walls of one's nose, is the Australianspecies of the common house-fly.
It is possible at times to circumvent the "gintilman wot pays the rint,"and persuade him to return through the same hole in the fence which gavehim escape, by appearing to be anxious to drive him out on to the plain.That is pig strategy; or rather, strategy with a pig. He is beaten, soto speak, by the law of contrairy. When all resources fail inpersuading the hen that the flour-bin, or the linen basket, is notspecially constructed to suit her convenience in the daily duty of eggproducing, one can at the last resort requisition the services of Madamela Guillotine.
But neither strategy nor tactics, neither force nor fraud, availanything when the early fly, with recruited energies and fiendishintent, starts on her mission of seeking whom and what she may annoy.She--it is quite safe to put the insect in the feminine gender--can beneither coaxed, persuaded, shoo'd, deceived, frightened, nor driven fromher prey. The fly always wins--in the end.
Driven from Blanket Bay on this eventful Christinas morning by theincorrigible fly, Joe proceeded at once to reverse the Golden Rule, andpromptly made war upon his mates on that morning which, of all the daysin the year, makes for peace and goodwill among men.
Tom had sought refuge from the fly in the bed-clothes, and muffled nasalmonotones made a sonorous chorale. On the other hand, Sandy, imperviousto all impious fly assaults, lay on his back, mouth wide open, breathingheavily and steadily. Sandy was of the pachydermatous order. Neithermosquito nor fly troubled him. The flies evidently found his eyes to bea dry patch, while they were unable to obtain a permanent foothold athis nostrils owing to the intermittent, horse-like snorts which blewthem as from the mouth of a blunderbuss. But they heavily fringed hismouth, eating with manifest relish their bacilli breakfast.
In a jiffy the bed-clothes are whipped off the slumbering lads, and inless than no time the latter, pillows in hand, make common cause againstthe aggressor. Joe puts up a gallant fight, but the odds are too muchfor him; he is driven into a corner at last and unmercifully pelted.
This prelude to the day's enjoyment concluded, the pals jump into theirclothes and proceed to execute the second item on the day's programme,namely, a horseback scamper through the bush before breakfast.
Oh, the glory of it! Out from the confines of four walls into the openspaces of the world when night is merging into day; to move in the dawnof a new day; to stand enwrapped in its pearl-grey mantle ere themounting sun has turned its soft shades to rosy brilliance; to inhalethe spicy breeze which, during the night watches, having extracted theperfumes of the forest flowers, comes heavily freighted o'er gully andrange, and diffuses the sweet odours as the reward of the early riser.And then--to watch the daily miracle of sunrise!
"See! the dapple-grey coursers of the morn Beat up the light with their bright silver hoofs And chase it through the sky."
Sandy, on old Rufus, kept for that work, soon rounds-up and yardsseveral steeds from the horse-paddock. From these three are picked andsaddled; and ere the rising sun has walked "o'er the dew of yon higheastern hills," the lads are scampering through bush and brake, o'erdale and hill. They chivy the silent kangaroo through the lush grass;have a glorious burst after a belated dingo; rouse screaming parrots andparoquets from their matutinal meal off the honey blossoms of box andapple trees; pulling up at last on the summit of a dome-shaped, treelesshill, from whence, with the bloom of the morning still upon it, thelandscape extends in a vast stretch of undulation, broken at irregularintervals by silver ribbons of creek and river.
Belts of scrub and forest, rich pasturages and arable lands, are dottedhere and there, with minute spots from which rise slender threads ofsmoke indicating settlers' houses; while away in the background are thepurple hills and the blue mountains.
Boys are not usually considered to be impressionable creatures on theaesthetic side of things. Herein we wrong them. They may notattitudinise, nor spout poetry when under the supreme touches of nature,for the boy is too natural to be theatrical. But, without doubt, themorning and evening glories of dear old mother earth do touch theirsense of beauty; and though these impressions may seem to be effaced byother and more sordid things, nevertheless they linger through the longyears, called up from time to time in sweet association with days thatare no more.
The lads, while they rested their steeds, stood in silent and wonderinggaze, broken at last by Tom, who, pointing across the intervening spacesto the broadest of the many silver threads, exclaimed, "Tender'sTareela!" Many miles away, as the crow flies, lay the river village, asmall cluster of dots, a few of which glistened in the sunlight. Theseshining spots indicated the "superior" houses that sported corrugatediron roofs, new in those days. For the most part the "roof-trees" wereshingle or bark.
And now, homeward bound, the horsemen slither down the hillside, plungeinto a pine scrub, to emerge therefrom on the border of a small plain,and chase a mob of brumbies grazing thereon. They, with snortingnostrils and waving manes, headed by a notorious grey stallion--of whommore anon--dash up a ravine into the fastnesses of the scrub, and,though followed some distance by the reckless riders, vanish from sightwith a celerity possible only to wild bush-horses.
Skirting now the banks of the Crocodile, they disturb flocks of teal,widgeon, water-hen, and other aquatic birds. At length they give a viewhalloo, for the old homestead is in sight. This scares a flock ofcockatoos that are camping in the river gums, after an early morning'spoaching expedition to the adjacent maize-fields, and brings out thestation dogs with a babble of barking, as they pound up the track with afinal spurt.
"Breakfast ready, Ah Fat?" sings out Sandy, as the boys come rushinginto the kitchen from the stables.
"Leddy? Tes, allee globble upee! Missee say no kleep anyling for badboy. Lockee allee glub." Ah Fat's twinkling, humorous eyes redeemedhis hatchet face and stolid countenance.
"It's all right, fellows. He's only pokin' borak at us," said Sandy,giving the Celestial a familiar slap. "Come along, I'm as hungry as ahunter. They've only started, I know."
The family were seated, heads were bent, and Mr. M'Intyre was saying thelong Scotch grace, when the boys burst into the room with a fineclatter. The rude intrusion brought a severe remonstrance from thatgentleman when the exercise was concluded. Mrs. M'Intyre--always readyto defend the boys and to champion them, to condone their faults and toextol their virtues, in which she was wise or otherwise, as the readermay decide--broke in with a Christmas greeting. For a minute there was afusillade of "Merry Christmas to you and many of them!"
"Now, boys, take your seats before breakfast's cold."
On proceeding to their places the boys stood stock still, for there,resting against their respective chairs, stood three brand-new,double-barrel shot-guns.
"Weel, bairns!" exclaimed Mr. M'Intyre, with quiet amusement, surveyingthe amazed boys as they gazed at the weapons. "What are ye frichtenedat? Is it snakes y're lukin' upon? Why dinna ye sit doon to yurefood?"
"Oh, father! mother!" cried Sandy at last, picking up his gun, pleasurebeaming from his face. "This is what Harry meant when he said lastnight he'd brought out a parcel fr
om the town that'd come by steamer."Then with a rush, Joe and Tom at his heels, he danced round the abashedScotchman, and gave him a hug, repeating the dose with interest on Mrs.M'Intyre. It was hard for the boys to settle down to breakfast anddislodge their eyes from the weapons. What their souls coveted most wasa gun. The clamant claims of hunger, however, are not to bedisregarded; so, stacking their guns in a corner, the boys did amplejustice to a generous meal.
"Did you have a pleasant ride this morning, boys?" inquired Mrs.M'Intyre. "You've not been out on the run before, Tom, have you?"
"No, ma'am. We'd a good time, though!"
"How far did you go, Sandy?"
"To the top of Bald Hummock, mother."
"Splendid view from the top, is it not, Joe?"
"Not bad, Mrs. M'Intyre."
"That's a negative descreeption o' ane o' the graundest sichts the haledeestric' can boast," said Mr. M'Intyre, with emphasis.
Joe became conscious of the banality.
"An' why did ye no' tak' Mr. Neville wi' you, boys? Ye did wrang no' toinvite him to ride wi' you. I think ye owe him an apologee, Saundy."
"I'm very sorry," said the lad, turning in some confusion to Mr.Neville. "If I'd thought----"
"Oh, I shouldn't have dreamed of going out at such an early hour, mylad," replied Neville loftily. He had a somewhat affected accent and asuperior air. "I nevvah exert myself before breakfast. Besides, I amnot sure that I should find a safe escort in a parcelof--er--schoolboys. With the young ladies, now," he continued, fixinghis monocle and bestowing a patronising stare upon Sandy's sisters,Maggie and Jessie, "I--I--should be delighted to go for a bush ride, asI think these equestrian expeditions are called in Awestralia, in thecool of the afternoon."
"We don't call them even bush rides out here, Mr. Neville," answeredJessie saucily. She resented patronage. "We call 'em spins. Boys, Ivote we all go for a spin this afternoon. Let's ride as far as BenBolt's cave. It'll be something interesting to show Mr. Neville. BenBolt's a famous bushranger hereabouts, you know, and the cave is afavourite rendezvous for his gang, as well as a safe hiding-place. Atleast, it was so until a few months ago, when the police and blacktrackers discovered it, and nearly nabbed him. Fancy having abushranger's camp on the Bullaroi boundary! But Ben never uses it now.So let's ride out to it. Are you game, boys?"
"Game!" snorted Sandy. "What's to be game about? The main thing is,will Mr. Neville care for an eighteen-mile spin? If not, we could gofor a short ride down the Crocodile."
"Please don't question my ability, boy!" retorted the new chum, whoresented the implication contained in Sandy's remark. "I find,"continued he, addressing his host, "you good people out heah seem tothink that Awestralia is the only place where horseback riding isindulged in----"
"We ride steers also, an' billies too," slyly interjected Joe, with awink at the girls.
"And we read that they ride donkeys and--er--hobby-horses in England,"chipped in Jessie, whose eyes sparkled with mischief.
"Good for you, ole Jess! Let 'em bring out their English fox-huntersan' steeple-chasers that they brag so much about, and we'll give 'em adingo run, or a go at cutting out scrubbers,[#] an' see how they'd bewith their pretty coats an' breeches, at the tail of the hunt!"
[#] Wild, unbranded cattle, frequenting scrub country,
"Are ye addressing the English nation or oor guest, Saundy?"
M'Intyre could be caustic when he willed. He had no liking forAustralian blow, and hit at it as he would hit at a snake, wheneveroccasion arose. He now turned the laugh against his son, Jess laughingloudest of all.
"It's settled, then, that we ride out to the cave this afternoon?" saidMaggie, with an inquiring eye on Neville.
"I'm shore 'twill be a pleasant jaunt, Miss M'Intyre," replied theEnglishman. "I shall have pleasure in acting as your escort. Butthis--er--famous--er--notorious--er--highwayman, is it--er--safe? Imean--er--I'm thinking of the--er--ladies, you know."
"What's to be afraid of?" quoth Jessie. To her, risk meant spice, anadded zest. Her whole heart went out to the life of the open air andthe pleasures of the chase. Her greatest delight was in a mad scamperthrough the bush behind the dogs, in the kangaroo hunt.
"Don't be alarmed, Mr. Neville; Mag and I'll protect you shouldthe--er--famous--notorious--bushranger--highwayman turn up," went on theaudacious minx. "I'd dearly love to see Ben Bolt. I think he's a lotbetter than many who run him down. Oh my! wouldn't it be fun if wesurprised him in the cave? I'd----"
"Stop, Jess; cease your blether!" said Mr. M'Intyre sternly. "The monmay no' be as black as he's pented, but he's no' an honest mon.Misguided he may be to an extent, and no' a'thegither answerable forsome of the steps in his doonward career, but a creeminal for a' that,whom the country were weel rid o'. But as for the reesk, there's nareesk in ridin' to the cave. The Sub-Inspector telt me a few days agothat Ben Bolt's gone o'er the border. News is to hand to the effectthat he stuck up a Chinaman on the Brisbane road. So the cave's safeenough."
"That's settled, then," broke in Maggie. "If we leave here about fouro'clock 'twill be early enough, and will give us plenty of time to getback by dark."
"Maidie, my pet," said Mrs. M'Intyre to her little three-year-old, adainty, precocious miss, "what are you staring at? It's rude to stareat any one like that."
"Oh, muzzer!" exclaimed the child, turning her bright eyes mother-wardsfor a moment and then fixing them with a fascinated gaze upon theEnglishman.
"What is it that interests you, little girl?" remarked Neville in apatronising tone. "Is it the colour of my tie?"
Maidie shook her curly head, and, without removing her eyes from Mr.Neville's face, leaned towards Jessie, who sat next to her, andwhispered, "The genkilmun's got somesin' on his fevvers."
Suspended from the tip of one of Neville's incipient moustaches was ayellow string of egg-yolk. Jess had observed this for some time, with atendency to hilarity whenever it caught her eye. Maidie's comicaldescription added fuel to the fire of the girl's merriment, sending herinto convulsive laughter. She answered looks of interrogation bypointing to the dangling egg thread, and saying as well as circumstancespermitted, "Maidie says--ha--ha--ha!--that Mr. Fevv--he--he--he!--Mr.Neville's got egg on his--fev--feathers." This explanatory andludicrous mixture created a general explosion among the young folk. Thesituation, however, was promptly ended by Mrs. M'Intyre, who discreetlyrose on seeing that the guest did not join in the general laugh.
There was nothing much for the men-folk to do; but the boys were burningto try their new fowling-pieces, The squatter, seeing their intent,directed them to use their skill on the cockatoos and king parrots thatwere devastating the maize crop.
These birds, especially the former, proved wily customers, so that notmany opportunities offered for testing the guns. Enough was done,though, to prove that the guns were no "slouches," and great things werepredicted when the lads should "know" their respective weapons.
"Whatyer think of the new chum, Joe?" said Sandy to Blain, as they saton a log under a low-spreading wattle tree, on the look out for a flyingshot.
"Goes thirteen to the dozen, ole man, don't he? Knows a lot more'n us,he reckons, and can't help showin' it."
"Yes, he can't stand us chaps at no price. By George! Jess's got hismeasure, and Mag too, for that matter. They'll take his nibs down a pegor two before he goes, I bet tuppence."
"Little Maidie fitted him all right," chipped in Tom."Fevvers--ha--ha!--yes, goose feathers."
It was evident that the visitor was not in favour with the young people.He had struck a false note. No one can be quicker than boys to detectsuperciliousness and to resent it. The patronising air is to them theunforgivable sin. Henceforth Neville went by the name of "Fevvers"among the boys, to the great amusement of the girls, who, unfortunatelyfor the Englishman, had assigned him a place in prig-dom.
Neville, it must be confessed, was a bit of a prig; but at heart he wasnot at all a bad fellow, and there came a
time not far ahead whenrespect supplanted contempt in the pals, and the ridiculous nickname wasdropped; while he on his part discontinued the use of the irritatingcomparison, "the way we do things in England," which at the beginning hewas for ever introducing.
The household was enjoying a siesta after the typical Christmas dinnerwhich was partaken of at midday. Stillness reigned within the house,save the cracking of house timbers under the influence of the heat.This seductive calm and the sweet sleep of the girls was at lengthrudely broken by Sandy, who in the exercise of a brother's privilegeshook the door violently as he shouted, "Now then, lazies, get up anddress! It's half-past three."
"Bother you, Sandy, you _are_ a nuisance!" sleepily complained Jessie."I--I--was having _such_ a lovely dream. Neptune was just on the heelsof a blue flyer,[#] and I was galloping alongside him. The chase led usto Blind-fall Gully, and we three took the jump together, and werealmost landed on the other side when you thumped the door. I thought atfirst it was the thud of Kangie's tail, but no! there she was flyingthrough----"
[#] Maiden kangaroo, a very fast runner.
"That comes of eating too much plum-duff an' mince-pie, my girl. But Isay, you two, look slippy, or you'll be too late. I told Jacky tosaddle Nigger for you, Jess. What'll you take, Mag? Rainbow or Sultan?They're both up."
"Don't care, Sandy. I'll take Sultan, I think. No, I'll take Rainbow.Wait a moment, p'r'aps----"
"Oh! stop your silly nonsense. I'll put the saddle on Sultan," shoutedthe impatient boy, as he made off through the house to the stockyard.
"Say, Sandy!" cried out Jess, who was now wide awake. "Have you rousedMr.--er--Fevvers yet?"
"'Ssh! mother'll hear you," exclaimed the boy warningly, as he returnedto the door. "He didn't have a snooze. Says it's unbusinesslike tosleep in the daytime. Says they never do that in England. England beblowed, say I. An' whatyer think? Harry offered him the loan of hisleggin's, but he wouldn't have 'em. Says they smell of the stockyard,ha--ha! Says they don't wear 'em in England. Listen! He's got on apair of white duck britches, an' my crikey! they won't be white anylonger. He asked Harry for his fourteen-foot stockwhip. Says he wastold an 'Awestralian' horse would never budge without one. Only dad wasthere I'd 'a' put his saddle on Dick Swiveller, an' by jing! we'd 'a'had some sport. We'll knock fun out of him as it is, I reckon. But lookalive, girls, or y'll be left behind."