The
departmental books; therefore it was whispered in the tail of the last
message that the Katherine was watching the fight with interest was
inclined to "reckon the missus a goer," and that public sympathy was with
the stockman - the Katherine had its women-folk and was thankful; but the
Katherine knew that although a woman in a settlement only rules her
husband's home, the wife of a station-manager holds the peace and comfort
of the stockmen in the hollow of her hand.
"Stock horses all flash," the Sanguine Scot said, and then went out and
apologised to an old bay horse. "We had to settle her hash somehow,
Roper, old chap," he said, stroking the beautiful neck, adding tenderly
as the grand old head nosed into him: "You silly old fool! You'd carry
her like a lamb if I let you."
Then the Maluka's reply came, and Mac whistled in amazement. "By George!"
he said to those near him, "she IS a goer, a regular goer"; and after
much careful thought wired an inane suggestion about waiting until after
the Wet.
Darwin laughed outright, and an emphatic: "Wife determined, coming
Tuesday's train," from the Maluka was followed by a complete breakdown at
the Katherine.
Then Darwin came in twos and threes to discuss the situation, and while
the men offered every form of service and encouragement, the women-folk
spoke of a woman "going bush" as "sheer madness." "Besides, no woman
travels during the Wet," they said, and the Maluka "hoped she would prove
the exception."
"But she'll be bored to death if she does reach the homestead alive,"
they prophesied; and I told them they were not very complimentary to the
Maluka.
"You don't understand," they hastened to explain. "He'll be camping out
most of his time, miles away from the homestead," and I said, "So will
I."
"So you think," they corrected. "But you'll find that a woman alone in a
camp of men is decidedly out of place"; and I felt severely snubbed.
The Maluka suggested that he might yet succeed in persuading some
suitable woman to come out with us, as maid or companion; but the
opposition, wagging wise heads, pursed incredulous lips, as it declared
that "no one but a fool would go out there for either love or money." A
prophecy that came true, for eventually we went "bush" womanless.
The Maluka's eyes twinkled as he listened. "Does the cap fit, little
'un?" he asked; but the women-folk told him that it was not a matter for
joking.
"Do you know there is not another white woman within a hundred-mile
radius ?" they asked; and the Maluka pointed out that it was not all
disadvantage for a woman to be alone in a world of men. "The men who form
her world are generally better and truer men, because the woman in their
midst is dependent on them alone, for companionship, and love, and
protecting care," he assured them.
"Men are selfish brutes," the opposition declared, rather irrelevantly,
looking pointedly at the Maluka.
He smiled with as much deference as he could command. "Also," he said, "a
woman alone in a world of men rarely complains of their selfishness"; and
I hastened to his assistance. "Particularly when those men are
chivalrous bushmen," I began, then hesitated, for, since reading the
telegrams, my ideas of bush chivalry needed readjustment.
"Particularly when those men are chivalrous bushmen," the Maluka agreed,
with the merry twinkle in his eyes; for he perfectly understood the cause
of the sudden breakdown. Then he added gravely: "For the average bushman
will face fire, and flood, hunger, and even death itself, to help the
frail or weak ones who come into his life; although he'll strive to the
utmost to keep the Unknown Woman out of his environments particularly
when those environments are a hundred miles from anywhere."
The opposition looked incredulous. "Hunger and death!" it said.
"Fiddlesticks!" It would just serve them right if she went; and the men
folk pointed out that this was, now, hardly flattering to the missus.
The Maluka passed the interruption by without comment. "The Unknown Woman
is brimful of possibilities to a bushman," he went on; "for although she
MAY be all womanly strength and tenderness, she may also be anything,
from a weak timid fool to a self-righteous shrew, bristling with virtue
and indignation. Still," he added earnestly, as the opposition began to
murmur, "when a woman does come into our lives, whatever type she may be,
she lacks nothing in the way of chivalry, and it rests with herself
whether she remains an outsider or becomes just One of Us. Just One of
Us," he repeated, unconsciously pleading hard for the bushman and his
greatest need - "not a goddess on a pedestal, but just a comrade to share
our joys and sorrows with."
The opposition wavered. "If it wasn't for those telegrams," it said. But
Darwin, seeing the telegrams in a new light, took up the cudgels for the
bushmen.
"Poor beggars," it said, "you can't blame them. When you come to think of
it, the Unknown Woman is brimful of possibilities." Even then, at the
Katherine, the possibilities of the Unknown Woman were being tersely
summed up by the Wag.
"You'll sometimes get ten different sorts rolled into one," he said
finally, after a long dissertation. "But, generally speaking, there's
just three sorts of 'em. There's Snorters - the goers, you know - the sort
that go rampaging round, looking for insults, and naturally finding them;
and then there's fools; and they're mostly screeching when they're not
smirking - the uncertain-coy-and-hard-to-please variety, you know," he
chuckled, "and then," he added seriously, "there's the right sort, the
sort you tell things to.
