"Talk of luck!" he shouted. "You'll do, missus!
Here's Johnny himself."
It was Johnny, sure enough; but Johnny had a cheque in his pocket, and
was yearning to see the "chaps at the Katherine"; and, after a good look
through the House and store, decided that he really would have to go in
to the Settlement for - tools and "things."
"I'll be back in a week, missus," he said next morning, as he gathered
his reins together before mounting, "and then we shan't be long. Three
days in and three out, you know, bar accidents, and a day's spell at the
Katherine," he explained glibly. But the "chaps at the Katherine" proved
too entertaining for Johnny, and a fortnight passed before we saw him
again.
CHAPTER VII
The Quiet Stockman was a Scotchman, and, like many Scotchmen, a strange
contradiction of shy reserve and quiet, dignified self-assurance. Having
made up his mind on women in general, he saw no reason for changing it;
and as he went about his work, thoroughly and systematically avoided me.
There was no slinking round corners though; Jack couldn't slink. He had
always looked the whole world in the face with his honest blue eyes, and
could never do otherwise. He only took care that our paths did not cross
more often than was absolutely necessary; but when they did, his Scotch
dignity asserted itself, and he said what had to be said with quiet
self-possession, although he invariably moved away as soon as possible.
"It's just Jack's way," the Sanguine Scot said, anxious that his fellow
Scot should not be misunderstood. "He'll be all there if ever you need
him. He only draws the line at conversations."
But when I mounted the stockyard fence one morning, to see the
breaking-in of the colts, he looked as though he "drew the line" at that
too.
Fortunately for Jack's peace of mind, horse-breaking was not the only
novelty at the homestead. Only a couple of changes of everything, in a
tropical climate, meant an unbroken cycle of washing-days, while, apart
from that, Sam Lee was full of surprises, and the lubras' methods of
house-cleaning were novel in the extreme.
Sam was bland, amiable, and inscrutable, and obedient to irritation; and
the lubras were apt, and merry, and open-hearted, and wayward beyond
comprehension. Sam did exactly as he was told, and the lubras did
exactly as they thought fit, and the results were equally disconcerting.
Sam was asked for a glass of milk, and the lubras were told to scrub the
floor. Sam brought the milk immediately, and the lubras, after scrubbing
two or three isolated patches on the floor, went off on some frolic of
their own.
