Chapter XIV.
When Dan Came Home.
One night after the threshing. Dad lying on the sofa, thinking; therest of us sitting at the table. Dad spoke to Joe.
"How much," he said, "is seven hundred bushels of wheat at sixshillings?"
Joe, who was looked upon as the brainy one of our family, took down hisslate with a hint of scholarly ostentation.
"What did y' say, Dad--seven 'undred BAGS?"
"Bushels! BUSHELS!"
"Seven 'un-dered bush-els-of wheat--WHEAT was it, Dad?"
"Yes, WHEAT!"
"Wheat at...At WHAT, Dad?"
"Six shillings a bushel."
"Six shil-lings-a.... A, Dad? We've not done any at A; she's on'yshowed us PER!"
"PER bushel, then!"
"Per bush-el. That's seven 'undered bushels of wheat at six shillin'sper bushel. An' y' wants ter know, Dad--?"
"How much it'll be, of course."
"In money, Dad, or--er----?"
"Dammit, yes; MONEY!" Dad raised his voice.
For a while, Joe thought hard, then set to work figuring and rubbingout, figuring and rubbing out. The rest of us eyed him, envious of hislearning.
Joe finished the sum.
"Well?" from Dad.
Joe cleared his throat. We listened.
"Nine thousan' poun'."
Dave laughed loud. Dad said, "Pshaw!" and turned his face to the wall.Joe looked at the slate again.
"Oh! I see," he said, "I did n't divide by twelve t' bring t' pounds,"and laughed himself.
More figuring and rubbing out.
Finally Joe, in loud, decisive tones, announced, "FOUR thousand, NO'undered an' twenty poun', fourteen shillin's an'--"
"Bah! YOU blockhead!" Dad blurted out, and jumped off the sofa andwent to bed.
We all turned in.
We were not in bed long when the dog barked and a horse entered theyard. There was a clink of girth-buckles; a saddle thrown down; then athump, as though with a lump of blue-metal, set the dog yelpinglustily. We lay listening till a voice called out at the door--"All inbed?" Then we knew it was Dan, and Dad and Dave sprang out in theirshirts to let him in. All of us jumped up to see Dan. This time he hadbeen away a long while, and when the slush-lamp was lit and fairlygoing, how we stared and wondered at his altered looks! He had grown along whisker, and must have stood inches higher than Dad.
Dad was delighted. He put a fire on, made tea, and he and Dan talkedtill near daybreak--Dad of the harvest, and the Government dam that waspromised, and the splendid grass growing in the paddock; Dan of thegreat dry plains, and the shearing-sheds out back, and the chaps he hadmet there. And he related in a way that made Dad's eyes glisten andJoe's mouth open, how, with a knocked-up wrist, he shore beside Proctorand big Andy Purcell, at Welltown, and rung the shed by half a sheep.
Dad ardently admired Dan.
Dan was only going to stay a short while at home, he said, then was offWest again. Dad tried to persuade him to change his mind; he wouldhave him remain and help to work the selection. But Dan only shook hishead and laughed.
Dan accompanied Dad to the plough every morning, and walked cheerfullyup and down the furrows all day, talking to him. Sometimes he took aturn at the plough, and Dad did the talking. Dad just loved Dan'scompany.
A few days went by. Dan still accompanied Dad to the plough; but didn't walk up and down with him. He selected a shade close by, andtalked to Dad from there as he passed on his rounds. Sometimes Danused to forget to talk at all--he would be asleep--and Dad would wonderif he was unwell. Once he advised him to go up to the house and have agood camp. Dan went. He stretched himself on the sofa, and smoked andspat on the floor and played the concertina--an old one he won in araffle.
Dan did n't go near the plough any more. He stayed inside every day,and drank the yeast, and provided music for the women. Sometimes hewould leave the sofa, and go to the back-door and look out, and watchDad tearing up and down the paddock after the plough; then he'd yawn,and wonder aloud what the diggins it was the old man saw in a game likethat on a hot day; and return to the sofa, tired. But every eveningwhen Dad knocked off and brought the horses to the barn Dan went outand watched him unharnessing them.
A month passed. Dad was n't so fond of Dan now, and Dan never talkedof going away. One day Anderson's cows wandered into our yard andsurrounded the hay-stack. Dad saw them from the paddock and cooeed,and shouted for those at the house to drive them away. They did n'thear him. Dad left the plough and ran up and pelted Anderson's cowswith stones and glass-bottles, and pursued them with a pitch-fork till,in a mad rush to get out, half the brutes fell over the fence and madehavoc with the wire. Dad spent an hour mending it; then went to theverandah and savagely asked Mother if she had lost her ears. Mothersaid she had n't. "Then why the devil could n't y' hear me singin'out?" Mother thought it must have been because Dan was playing theconcertina. "Oh, DAMN his concertina!" Dad squealed, and kicked Joe'slittle kitten, that was rubbing itself fondly against his leg, cleanthrough the house.
Dan found the selection pretty slow--so he told Mother--and thought hewould knock about a bit. He went to the store and bought a supply ofammunition, which he booked to Dad, and started shooting. He stood atthe door and put twenty bullets into the barn; then he shot two bearsnear the stock-yard with twenty more bullets, and dragged both bearsdown to the house and left them at the back-door. They stayed at theback-door until they went very bad; then Dad hooked himself to them anddragged them down the gully.
Somehow, Dad began to hate Dan! He scarcely ever spoke to him now, andat meal-times never spoke to any of us. Dad was a hard man tounderstand. We could n't understand him. "And with DAN at home, too!"Sal used to whine. Sal verily idolised Dan. Hero-worship was strongin Sal.
One night Dad came in for supper rather later than usual. He'd had ahard day, and was done up. To make matters worse, when he was takingthe collar off Captain the brute tramped heavily on his toe, and tookthe nail off. Supper was n't ready. The dining-room was engaged. Danwas showing Sal how the Prince of Wales schottische was danced in thehuts Out Back. For music, Sal was humming, and the two were flyingabout the room. Dad stood at the door and looked on, with blood in hiseye.
"Look here!" he thundered suddenly, interrupting Dan--"I've had enoughof you!" The couple stopped, astonished, and Sal cried, "DAD!" ButDad was hot. "Out of this!" (placing his hand on Dan, and shovinghim). "You've loafed long enough on me! Off y' go t' th' devil!"
Dan went over to Anderson's and Anderson took him in and kept him aweek. Then Dan took Anderson down at a new game of cards, and went awayWest again.