The pit, had anything but a merry time.
Down in the pit, away from the air, he worked; pulling and pushing,
pushing and pulling, hour after hour, in a blinding stream of sawdust.
When we offered him sympathy and a gossamer veil, he accepted the veil
gratefully, but waved the sympathy aside, saying it was "all in the good
cause." Nothing was ever a hardship to the Dandy, excepting dirt.
Johnny being a past-master in his trade, stood on the platform in the
upper air, guiding the saw along the marked lines; and as he instructed
us all in the fine art of pit-sawing, Dan decided that the building of a
house, under some circumstances, could be an education in itself.
"Thought she might manage to learn a thing or two out of it," he said.
"The building of it is right enough. It all depends what she uses it for
when Johnny's done with it."
As the pliant saw coaxed beams, and slabs, and flooring boards out of the
forest trees I grew to like beginning at the beginning of things, and
realised there was an underlying truth in Dan's whimsical reiteration,
that "the missus was in luck when she struck this place"; for beams and
slabs and flooring boards wrested from Nature amid merrymaking and
philosophical discourses are not as other beams and slabs and flooring
boards. They are old friends and fellow-adventurers, with many a good
tale to tell, recalling comical situations in their reminiscences with a
vividness that baffles description.
Perhaps those who live in homes with the beginning of things left behind
in forests they have never seen, may think chattering planks a poor
compensation for unpapered, rough-boarded walls and unglazed window
frames. Let them try it before they judge; remembering always, that
before a house can be built of old friends and memories the friends must
be made and the memories lived through.
But other things beside the sawing of timber were in progress, Things
were also "humming" in the dog world. A sturdy fox-terrier, Brown by
name, had been given by a passing traveller to the Maluka, given almost
of necessity for Brown - as is the way with fox-terriers at times - quietly
changed masters, and lying down at the Maluka's feet, had refused to
leave him. The station dogs resented his presence there, and persecuted
him as an interloper; and being a peace-loving dog, Brown bore it
patiently for two days, hoping, no doubt, the persecution would wear
itself out. On the third day, however, he quietly changed his
tactics - for sometimes the only road to peace is through fighting - and,
accepting their challenge, took on the station dogs one by one in single
combat.
Only a full-sized particularly sturdy-looking fox-terrier against expert
cattle dogs; and yet no dog could stand against him. One by one he
closed with them, and one by one they went before him; and at the end of
a week he was "cock of the walk," and lay down to enjoy his well-earned
peace. His death-stroke was a flashing lunge, from a grip of a foreleg
to a sharp, grinding grip of the enemy's tongue. How he managed it was a
puzzle, but sooner or later he got his grip in, to let go at the piercing
yell of defeat that invariably followed. But Brown was a gentleman, not
a bully, and after each fight buried the hatchet, appearing to shake
hands with his late adversary. No doubt if he had had a tail he would
have wagged it, but Brown had been born with a large, perfectly round,
black spot, at the root of his tail, and his then owner, having an eye
for the picturesque, had removed his white tail entirely, even to its
last joint, to allow of no break in the spot; and when the spirit moved
Brown to wag a tail, a violent stirring of hairs in the centre of this
spot betrayed his desire to the world. It goes without saying that Brown
did not fight the canine women-folk; for, as some one has said, man is
the only animal that strikes his women-folk.
Most of the battles were fought in the station thoroughfare, all of them
taking on the form of a general melee. As soon as Brown closed with an
enemy, the rest of the dogs each sought an especial adversary, hoping to
wipe out some past defeat; while the pups, having no past to wipe out,
diverted themselves by skirmishing about on the outskirts of the
scrimmage, nipping joyously at any hind quarters that came handy, bumping
into other groups of pups, thoroughly enjoying life, and accumulating
material for future fights among themselves.
Altogether we had a lively week. To interfere in the fights only
prolonged them; and, to add to the general hubbub, the servant question
had opened up again. Jimmy's Nellie, who had been simmering for some
time, suddenly rebelled, and refused to consider herself among the
rejected.
We said there was no vacancy on the staff for her, and she immediately
set herself to create one, by pounding and punching at the staff in
private. Finding this of no avail, she threatened to "sing" Maudie dead,
also in private, unless she resigned. Maudie proving unexpectedly tough
and defiant, Nellie gave up all hope of creating a vacancy, and changing
front, adopted a stone-walling policy. Every morning, quietly and
doggedly, she put herself on the staff, and every morning was as quietly
and doggedly dismissed from office.
Doggedness being an unusual trait in a black fellow, the homestead became
interested. "Never say die, little 'un," the Maluka laughed each
morning; but Dan was inclined to bet on Nellie.
