Ain't tasted cabbage for five years"; and the
Maluka telling him to "sit right down then and begin, just where you
are" - beside our camp fire - with a less nervous "begging your pardon,
ma'am," he dropped down on one knee, and began.
"Don't be shy of the turkey," the Maluka said presently, noticing that he
had only taken a tiny piece, and the man looked sheepishly up. "'Tain't
exactly that I'm shy of it," he said, "but I'm scared to fill up any
space that might hold cabbage. That is," he added, again apologetic, "if
it's not wanted, ma'am."
It wasn't wanted; and as the man found room for it, the Maluka and Dan
offered further suggestions for the construction of the damper and its
conveyance to the fire.
The conveyance required judgment and watchful diplomacy, as the damper
preferred to dip in a rolling valley between my extended arms, or hang
over them like a tablecloth, rather than keep its desired form. But with
patience, and the loan of one of Dan's huge palms, it finally fell with
an unctuous, dusty "whouf" into the opened-out bed of ashes.
By the time it was hidden away, buried in the heart of the fire, a
woman's presence in a camp had proved less disturbing than might be
imagined, and we learned that our traveller had "come from Beyanst," with
a backward nod towards the Queensland border, and was going west; and by
the time the cabbage and tea were finished he had become quite talkative.
