It - peaceful and regular, with an occasional
single day "out-bush"; and when the Maluka in his leisure began to fulfil
his long-standing promise of a defence around my garden, Cheon expressed
himself well-pleased with his reform.
But even the demands of station books and accumulated mail-matter can be
satisfied in time, and Dan reporting that he was "getting going with the
bullocks," Cheon found his approval had been premature; for, to his
dismay, the Maluka abandoned the fence, and began preparations for a trip
"bush." "Surely the missus was not going?" he said; and next day we left
him at the homestead, a lonely figure, seated on an overturned bucket,
disconsolate and fearing the worst.
Cheon often favoured an upside-down bucket for a seat. Nothing more
uncomfortable for a fat man can be imagined, yet Cheon sat on his rickety
perch, for the most part chuckling and happy. Perhaps, like Mark Tapley,
he felt it a "credit being jolly" under such circumstances.
By way of contrast, we found Dan and Jack optimistic and happy, with some
good bullocks in hand, a record branding to report for the fortnight's
work, and a drover in camp of such a delightful turn of mind that he was
inclined to look upon every bullock mustered as "just the thing." He was
easily disposed of, and within a week we were back at the homestead.
We had left Cheon sad and disconsolate, but he met us, filled with fury,
and holding a sack of something soft in his arms. "What's 'er matter?" he
spluttered, almost choking with rage. "Me savey grow cabbage "; and he
flung the sack at our feet as we stood in the homestead thoroughfare
staring at him in wonder. "Paper yabber!" he added curtly, passing a
letter to the Maluka.
It was a kindly, courteous letter from our Eastern neighbour, who had
"ventured to send a cabbage, remembering the homestead garden did not get
on too well." (His visits had been in Sam's day). "How kind!" we said,
and not understanding Cheon's wrath, the Maluka opened the bag, and
passed two fine cabbages to him after duly admiring them.
They acted on Cheon like a red rag on a bull. Flinging them from him, he
sent them spinning across the stony ground with two furious kicks,
following them up with further furious kicks as we looked on in
speechless amazement. "What's 'er matter?" he growled, as, abandoning
the chase with a final lunge, he stalked indignantly back to us; and as
the unfortunate cabbages turned over and lay still on their tattered
backs, he began to explain his wrath. Was he not paid to grow cabbages,
he asked, and where had he failed that we should accept cabbages from
neighbours?
