To the surprise of the Katherine, I received
the potatoes without enthusiasm, not having been long enough in the
Territory to know their rare value, and, besides, I was puzzling over the
flat iron.
"What's it for?" I asked, and the Wag shouted in mock amazement: "For!
To iron duds with, of course," as Mine Host assured us it was of no use
to him beyond keeping a door open.
Still puzzled, I said I thought there would not be any need to iron duds
until we reached the homestead, and the Maluka said quietly: "It's FOR
the homestead. There will be nothing like that there."
Mac exploded with an impetuous "Good Heavens! What does she expect? First
pillows and now irons!"
Gradually realising that down South we have little idea of what "rough"
means to a bushman, I had from day to day been modifying my ideas of a
station home from a mansion to a commodious wooden cottage, plainly but
comfortably furnished. The Cottage had confirmed this idea, but Mac soon
settled the question beyond all doubt.
"Look here!" he said emphatically. "Before she leaves this place she'll
just have to grasp things a bit better," and sitting down on a swag he
talked rapidly for ten minutes, taking a queer delight in making
everything sound as bad as possible, "knocking the stiffening out of the
missus," as he phrased it, and certainly bringing the "commodious station
home" about her ears, which was just as well, perhaps.
After a few scathing remarks on the homestead in general, which he called
"One of those down-at-the-heels, anything-'ll-do sort of places," he
described The House. "It's mostly verandahs and promises," he said; "but
one room is finished. We call it The House, but you'll probably call it
a Hut, even though it has got doors and calico windows framed and on
hinges."
Then followed an inventory of the furniture. "There's one fairly steady,
good-sized table at least it doesn't fall over, unless some one leans on
it; then there's a bed with a wire mattress, but nothing else on it; and
there's a chair or two up to your weight (the boss'll either have to
stand up or lie down), and I don't know that there's much else excepting
plenty of cups and plates - they're enamel, fortunately, so you won't
have much trouble with the servants breaking things. Of course there's a
Christmas card and a few works of art on the walls for you to look at
when you're tired of looking at yourself in the glass. Yes! There's a
looking-glass - goodness knows how it got there! You ought to be thankful
for that and the wire-mattress. You won't find many of them out bush ."
I humbly acknowledged thankfulness, and felt deeply grateful to Mine
Host, when, with ready thoughtfulness he brought a couple of china cups
and stood them among the baggage - the heart of Mine Host was as warm and
sincere as his flashing smiles. I learned, in time, to be indifferent to
china cups, but that flat-iron became one of my most cherished
possessions - how it got to the Katherine is a long, long story, touching
on three continents, a man, a woman, and a baby.
The commodious station home destroyed, the Katherine bestirred itself
further in the speeding of its guests. The Telegraph came with the offer
of their buggy, and then the Police offered theirs; but Mine Host,
harnessing two nuggety little horses into his buck-board, drove round to
the store, declaring a buck-board was the "only thing for the road."
"You won't feel the journey at all in it," he said, and drove us round
the Settlement to prove how pleasant and easy travelling could be in the
Wet.
"No buggy obtainable," murmured the Maluka, reviewing the three offers.
But the Sanguine Scot was quite unabashed, and answered coolly: "You
forget those telegrams were sent to that other woman - the Goer, you
know - there WAS no buggy obtainable for HER. By George! Wasn't she a
snorter? I knew I'd block her somehow," and then he added with a gallant
bow and a flourish: "You can see for yourselves, chaps, that she didn't
come."
The Wag mimicked the bow and the flourish, and then suggested accepting
all three vehicles and having a procession "a triumphal exit that'll
knock spots off Pine Creek."
"There'd be one apiece," he said, "and with Jackeroo as outrider, and
loose horses to fill in with, we could make a real good thing of it if we
tried. There's Tam, now; he's had a fair amount of practice lately,
dodging round corners, and if he and I stood on opposite sides of the
track, and dodged round bushes directly the procession passed coming out
farther along, we could line the track for miles with cheering crowds."
The buck-board only being decided on, he expressed himself bitterly
disappointed, but promised to do his best with that and the horses; until
hearing that Mac was to go out to the "five-mile" overnight with the
pack-team and loose horses, leaving us to follow at sun-up, he became
disconsolate and refused even to witness the departure.
"I'd 'av willingly bust meself cheering a procession and lining the track
with frantic crowds," he said, "but I'm too fat to work up any enthusiasm
over two people in a buck-board."
A little before sundown Mac set out, after instructing the Katherine to
"get the buck-board off early," and just before the Katherine "turned in"
for the night, the Maluka went to the office to settle accounts with Mine
Host.
