Chapter II.
Our First Harvest
If there is anything worse than burr-cutting or breaking stones, it'sputting corn in with a hoe.
We had just finished. The girls were sowing the last of the grain whenFred Dwyer appeared on the scene. Dad stopped and talked with himwhile we (Dan, Dave and myself) sat on our hoe-handles, like kangarooson their tails, and killed flies. Terrible were the flies,particularly when you had sore legs or the blight.
Dwyer was a big man with long, brown arms and red, bushy whiskers.
"You must find it slow work with a hoe?" he said.
"Well-yes-pretty," replied Dad (just as if he was n't quite sure).
After a while Dwyer walked over the "cultivation", and looked at ithard, then scraped a hole with the heel of his boot, spat, and said hedid n't think the corn would ever come up. Dan slid off his perch atthis, and Dave let the flies eat his leg nearly off without seeming tofeel it; but Dad argued it out.
"Orright, orright," said Dwyer; "I hope it do."
Then Dad went on to speak of places he knew of where they preferredhoes to a plough for putting corn in with; but Dwyer only laughed andshook his head.
"D--n him!" Dad muttered, when he had gone; "what rot! WON'T COME UP!"
Dan, who was still thinking hard, at last straightened himself up andsaid HE did n't think it was any use either. Then Dad lost his temper.
"No USE?" he yelled, "you whelp, what do you know about it?"
Dan answered quietly: "On'y this, that it's nothing but tomfoolery,this hoe business."
"How would you do it then?" Dad roared, and Dan hung his head and triedto button his buttonless shirt wrist-band while he thought.
"With a plough," he answered.
Something in Dad's throat prevented him saying what he wished, so herushed at Dan with the hoe, but--was too slow.
Dan slept outside that night.
No sooner was the grain sown than it rained. How it rained! forweeks! And in the midst of it all the corn came up--every grain-andproved Dwyer a bad prophet. Dad was in high spirits and promised eachof us something--new boots all round.
The corn continued to grow--so did our hopes, but a lot faster.Pulling the suckers and "heeling it up" with hoes was but child'splay--we liked it. Our thoughts were all on the boots; 'twas monthsmonths since we had pulled on a pair. Every night, in bed, we decidedtwenty times over whether they would be lace-ups or bluchers, and Davehad a bottle of "goanna" oil ready to keep his soft with.
Dad now talked of going up country--as Mother put it, "to keep the wolffrom the door"--while the four acres of corn ripened. He went, andreturned on the day Tom and Bill were born--twins. Maybe his absencedid keep the wolf from the door, but it did n't keep the dingoes fromthe fowl-house!
Once the corn ripened it did n't take long to pull it, but Dad had toput on his considering-cap when we came to the question of getting itin. To hump it in bags seemed inevitable till Dwyer asked Dad to givehim a hand to put up a milking-yard. Then Dad's chance came, and heseized it.
Dwyer, in return for Dad's labour, carted in the corn and took it tothe railway-station when it was shelled. Yes, when it WAS shelled! Wehad to shell it with our hands, and what a time we had! For the firsthalf-hour we did n't mind it at all, and shelled cob after cob asthough we liked it; but next day, talk about blisters! we could n'tclose our hands for them, and our faces had to go without a wash for afortnight.
Fifteen bags we got off the four acres, and the storekeeper undertookto sell it. Corn was then at 12 shillings and 14 shillings perbushel, and Dad expected a big cheque.
Every day for nearly three weeks he trudged over to the store (fivemiles) and I went with him. Each time the storekeeper would shake hishead and say "No word yet."
Dad could n't understand. At last word did come. The storekeeper wasbusy serving a customer when we went in, so he told Dad to "hold on abit".
Dad felt very pleased--so did I.
The customer left. The storekeeper looked at Dad and twirled a pieceof string round his first finger, then said--"Twelve pounds your corncleared, Mr. Rudd; but, of course" (going to a desk) "there's thataccount of yours which I have credited with the amount of thecheque--that brings it down now to just three pound, as you will see bythe account."
Dad was speechless, and looked sick.
He went home and sat on a block and stared into the fire with his chinresting in his hands, till Mother laid her hand upon his shoulder andasked him kindly what was the matter. Then he drew the storekeeper'sbill from his pocket, and handed it to her, and she too sat down andgazed into the fire.
That was OUR first harvest.