We Of The Never-Never By Jeanie
We Of The Never-Never By Jeanie "Mrs. Aeneas" Gunn - Page 10 of 162 - First - Home

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CHAPTER III

Bush chivalry demanding that a woman's discomfiture should be ignored, Mac kept his eyes on the horizon for the

First quarter of a mile, and talked volubly of the prospects of the Wet and the resources of the Territory; but when Flash was released, and after a short tussle settled down into a free, swinging amble, he offered congratulations in his own whimsical way.

"He's like the rest of us," he said, with a sly, sidelong look at the Maluka, "perfectly reconciled to his fate."

Although it was only sixty-five miles to the Katherine it took us exactly three days to travel the distance. Mac called it a "tip-top record for the Wet," and the Maluka agreed with him; for in the Territory it is not the number of miles that counts, but what is met with in those miles.

During the first afternoon we met so many amiable-looking watercourses, that the Sanguine Scot grew more and hopeful about crossing the Fergusson that night. "We'll just do it if we push on," he said, after a critical look at the Cullen, then little more than a sweet, shady stream. "Our luck's dead in. She's only just moving. Yesterday's rain hasn't come down the valleys yet."

We pushed on in the moonlight; but when we reached the Fergusson, two hours later, we found our luck was "dead out," for "she" was up and running a banker.

Mac's hopes sank below zero. "Now we've done it," he said ruefully, looking down at the swirling torrent, "It's a case of 'wait-a-while' after all."

But the Maluka's hopes always died hard. "There's still the Government yacht," he said, going to a huge iron punt that lay far above high-water mark. Mac called it a forlorn hope, and it looked it, as it lay deeply sunk in the muddy bank.

It was an immense affair, weighing over half a ton, and provided by a thoughtful Government for the transit of travellers "stuck up" by the river when in flood. An army of roughriders might have launched it, but as bushmen generally travel in single file, it lay a silent reproach to the wisdom of Governments.

Some jester had chalked on its sides "H.M.S. Immovable"; and after tugging valiantly at it for nearly half an hour, the Maluka and Mac and Jackeroo proved the truth of the bushman's irony.

There was no choice but a camp on the wrong side of the river, and after "dratting things" in general, and the Cullen in particular, Mac bowed to the inevitable and began to unpack the team, stacking packbags and saddles up on the rocks off the wet grass.

By the time the billy was boiling he was trying hard to be cheerful, but without much success. "Oh, well," he said, as we settled down round the fire, "this is the Land of Plenty of Time, that's one comfort. Another whole week starts next Sunday"; then relapsing altogether he added gloomily; "We'll be spending it here, too, by the look of things."

"Unless the missus feels equal to the horse's-tail trick" the Maluka suggested.

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