Chapter XVIII.
We Embark in the Bear Industry.
When the bailiff came and took away the cows and horses, and completelyknocked the bottom out of Dad's land scheme, Dad did n't sit in theashes and sulk. He was n't that kind of person. He DID at times sayhe was tired of it all, and often he wished it far enough, too! But,then, that was all mere talk on Dad's part. He LOVED the selection.To every inch--every stick of it--he was devoted. 'T was his creed.He felt certain there was money in it--that out of it would come hisindependence. Therefore, he did n't rollup and, with Mother by the handand little Bill on his back, stalk into town to hang round and abusethe bush. He walked up and down the yard thinking and thinking. Dadwas a man with a head.
He consulted Mother and Dave, and together they thought more.
"The thing is," Dad said, "to get another horse to finish the bit ofploughing. We've got ONE; Anderson will lend the grey mare, I know."
He walked round the room a few times.
"When that's done, I think I see my way clear; but THAT'S the trouble."
He looked at Dave. Dave seemed as though he had a solution. But Joespoke.
"Kuk-kuk-could n't y' b-reak in some kang'roos, Dad? There's pul-lentyin th' pup-paddick."
"Could n't you shut up and hold your tongue and clear out of this, youbrat?" Dad roared. And Joe hung his head and shut up.
"Well, y' know"--Dave drawled--"there's that colt wot Maloney offeredus before to quieten. Could get 'im. 'E's a big lump of a 'orse if y'could do anythin' with 'im. THEY gave 'im best themselves."
Dad's eyes shone.
"That's th' horse," he cried. "GET him! To-morrow first thing go forhim! I'LL make something of him!"
"Don't know"--Dave chuckled--"he's a----"
"Tut, tut; you fetch him."
"Oh, I'll FETCH 'im." And Dave, on the strength of having made avaluable suggestion, dragged Joe off the sofa and stretched himselfupon it.
Dad went on thinking awhile. "How much," he at last asked, "didJohnson get for those skins?"
"Which?" Dave answered. "Bears or kangaroos?"
"Bears."
"Five bob, was n't it? Six for some."
"What, A-PIECE?"
"Yairs."
"Why, God bless my soul, what have we been thinking about? FIVESHILLINGS? Are you sure?"
"Yairs, rather."
"What, bear-skins worth that and the paddock here and the lanes and thecountry over-run with them--FULL of the damn things--HUNDREDS ofthem--and we, all this time--all these years--working and slaving andscraping and-and" (he almost shouted), "DAMN me! What asses we HAVEbeen, to be sure." (Dave stared at him.) "Bear-skins FIVE SHILLINGSeach, and----"
"That's all right enough," Dave interrupted, "but----"
"Of COURSE it's all right enough NOW," Dad yelled, "now when we see it."
"But look!" and Dave sat up and assumed an arbitrary attitude. He wasgrowing suspicious of Dad's ideas. "To begin with, how many bears doyou reckon on getting in a day?"
"In a day"--reflectively--"twenty at the least."
"Twenty. Well, say we only got HALF that, how much d' y' make?"
"MAKE?" (considering). "Two pounds ten a day...fifteen or twentypounds a week...yes, TWENTY POUNDS, reckoning at THAT even. And do youmean to tell ME that we would n't get more than TEN bears a day? Whywe'd get more than that in the lane--get more up ONE tree."
Dave grinned.
"Can't you SEE? DAMN it, boy, are you so DENSE?"
Dave saw. He became enthusiastic. He wondered why it had never struckus before. Then Dad smiled, and we sat to supper and talked aboutbears.
"We'll not bother with that horse NOW," said Dad; "the ploughing cango; I'm DONE with it. We've had enough poking and puddling about.We'll start this business straightaway." And the following morning,headed by the dog and Dad, armed with a tomahawk, we started up thepaddock.
How free we felt! To think we were finished for ever with the rakingand carting of hay--finished tramping up and down beside Dad, with theplough-reins in our hands, flies in our eyes and burr in ourfeet--finished being the target for Dad's blasphemy when the plough orthe horses or the harness went wrong--was delightful! And theadventure and excitement which this new industry promised operatedstrongly upon us. We rioted and careered like hunted brumbies throughthe trees, till warned by Dad to "keep our eyes about;" then we settleddown, and Joe found the first bear. It was on an ironbark tree, aroundthe base of which we soon were clamouring.
"Up y' go!" Dad said, cheerfully helping Dave and the tomahawk into thefirst fork.
Dave ascended and crawled cautiously along the limb the bear was on andbegan to chop. WE armed ourselves with heavy sticks and waited. Thedog sat on his tail and stared and whined at the bear. The limbcracked, and Dave ceased chopping and shouted "Look out!" We shoulderedarms. The dog was in a hurry. He sprang in the air and landed on hisback. But Dave had to make another nick or two. Then with a loudcrack the limb parted and came sweeping down. The dog jumped to meetit. He met it, and was laid out on the grass. The bear scrambled toits feet and made off towards Bill. Bill squealed and fell backwardsover a log. Dad rushed in and kicked the bear up like a football. Itlanded near Joe. Joe's eyes shone with the hunter's lust of blood. Heswung his stick for a tremendous blow--swung it mightily and high--andnearly knocked his parent's head off. When Dad had spat blood enoughto make sure that he had only lost one tooth, he hunted Joe; but Joewas too fleet, as usual.
Meanwhile, the bear had run up another tree--about the tallest old gumin the paddock. Dad snapped his fingers angrily and cried: "Where thedevil was the DOG?"
"Oh, where the devil wuz the DORG?" Dave growled, sliding down thetree--"where th' devil wuz YOU? Where wuz the lot o' y'?"
"Ah, well!" Dad said "--there's plenty more we can get. Come along."And off we went. The dog pulled himself together and limped after us.
Bears were plentiful enough, but we wandered far before we foundanother on a tree that Dave could climb, and, when we DID, somehow orother the limb broke when he put his weight on it, and down he came,bear and all. Of course we were not ready, and that bear, like theother, got up another tree. But Dave did n't. He lay till Dad ranabout two miles down a gully to a dam and filled his hat with muddywater and came tearing back with it empty--till Anderson and Mothercame and helped to carry him home.
We did n't go out any more after bears. Dave, when he was able, wentand got Maloney's colt and put him in the plough. And, after he hadkicked Dad and smashed all the swingle-trees about the place, and gotright out of his harness a couple of times and sulked for two days, hewent well enough beside Anderson's old grey mare.
And that season, when everyone else's wheat was red with rust--whenAnderson and Maloney cut theirs for hay--when Johnson put a firestickin his--ours was good to see. It ripened; and the rain kept off, andwe reaped 200 bags. Salvation!