Direct to the forest trees they floated and,
settling there in their myriads, as by a miracle the gaunt, gnarled old
giants of the bush all over blossomed with garlands of grey, and pink,
and white, and gold.
But the operator, being unpoetical, had ridden on to the "wire," and
presently was "shinning up" one of its slender galvanised iron posts as a
preliminary to the "handshake"; for tapping the line being part of the
routine of a telegraph operator in the Territory, "shinning up posts," is
one of his necessary accomplishments.
In town, dust, and haste, and littered papers, and nerve-racking bustle
seem indispensable to the sending of a telegram; but when the bush-folk
"shake hands" with Outside all is sunshine and restfulness, soft beauty
and leisurely peace. With the murmuring bush about us in the clear space
kept always cleared beneath those quivering wires, we stood all dressed
in white, first looking up at the operator as, clinging to his pole, he
tapped the line, and then looking down at him as he knelt at our feet
with his tiny transmitter beside him clicking out our message to the
south folk. And as we stood, with our horses' bridles over our arms and
the horses nibbling at the sweet grasses, in touch with the world in
spite of our isolation, a gorgeous butterfly rested for a brief space on
the tiny instrument, with gently swaying purple wings, and away in the
great world men were sending telegrams amid clatter and dust, unconscious
of that tiny group of bushfolk, or that Nature, who does all things well,
can beautify even the sending of a telegram.
In the heart of the bush we stood yet listening to the clatter of the
townsfolk, for, business over, the little clicking instrument was
gossiping cheerily with us - the telegraph wire in the Territory being
such a friendly wire. Daily it gathers gossip, and daily whispers it up
and down the line, and daily news and gossip fly hither and thither:
who's "inside," who has gone out, whom to expect, where the mailman is,
the newest arrival in Darwin and the latest rainfall at Powell's Creek.
Daily the telegraph people hear all the news of the Territory, and in due
course give the news to the public, when the travellers gathering it,
carry it out to the bushfolk, scattering it broadcast, until everybody
knows every one else, and all his business and where it has taken him;
and because of that knowledge, and in spite of those hundreds of
thousands of square miles of bushland, the people of the Territory are
held together in one great brotherhood.
Among various items of news the little instrument told us that Dan was
"packing up for the return trip"; and in a day or two he came in,
bringing a packet of garden seeds and a china teapot from Mine Host,
Southern letters from the telegraph, and, from little Johnny, news that
he was getting tools together and would be along in no time.
Being in one of his whimsical moods, Dan withheld congratulations.
"I've been thinking things over, boss," he said, assuming his most
philosophical manner "and I reckon any more rooms'll only interfere with
getting the missus educated."
Later on he used the servant question to hang his argument on. "Just
proves what I was saying" he said. "If the cleaning of one room causes
all this trouble and worry, where'll she be when she's got four to look
after? What with white ants, and blue mould, and mildew, and wrestling
with lubras, there won't be one minute to spare for education."
He also professed disapproval of the Maluka's devices for making the
homestead more habitable. "If this goes on we'll never learn her nothing
but loafin'", he declared when he found that a couple of yards of canvas
and a few sticks had become a comfortable lounge chair. "Too much
luxury!" and he sat down on his own heels to show how he scorned
luxuries. A tree sawn into short lengths to provide verandah seats for
all comers he passed over as doubtful. He was slightly reassured however,
when he heard that my revolver practice had not been neglected, and
condescended to own that some of the devices were "handy enough." A neat
little tray, made from the end of a packing-case and a few laths,
interested him in particular. "You'll get him dodged for ideas one of
these days," he said, alluding to the Maluka's ingenuity, and when, a day
or two later, I broke the spring of my watch and asked helplessly,
"However was I going to tell the time till the waggons came with the
clock?" Dan felt sure I had set an unsolvable problem.
"That 'ud get anybody dodged," he declared; but it took more than that to
"dodge" the Maluka's resourcefulness. He spent a little while in the sun
with a compass and a few wooden pegs, and a sundial lay on the ground
just outside the verandah.
Dan declared it just "licked creation," and wondered if "that 'ud settle
'em," when I asked for some strong iron rings for a curtain. But the
Dandy took a hobble chain to the forge, and breaking the links asunder,
welded them into smooth round rings.
The need for curtain rings was very pressing, for, scanty as it was, the
publicity of our wardrobe hanging in one corner of the reception room
distressed me, but with the Dandy's rings and a chequered rug for
curtain, a corner wardrobe was soon fixed up.
Dan looked at it askance, and harked back to the sundial and education.
"It's 'cute enough," he said. "But it won't do, boss. She should have
been taught how to tell the time by the sun.
