Yet it was in this night camp
among the dark pines, with even the stars shut out, that we learnt that
out-bush "Houselessness" need not mean "Homelessness" - a discovery that
destroyed all hope that "this would sicken her a bit."
As we were only to be out one night, and there was little chance of rain,
we had nothing with us but a little tucker, a bluey each, and a couple of
mosquito nets. The simplicity of our camp added intensely to the
isolation; and as I stood among the dry rustling leaves, looking up at
the dark broad-leaved canopy above us, with my "swag" at my feet, the
Maluka called me a "poor homeless little coon."
A woman with a swag sounds homeless enough to Australian ears, but Dan,
with his habit of looking deep into the heart of things, "didn't exactly
see where the homelessness came in."
We had finished supper, and the Maluka stretching himself luxuriously in
the firelight, made a nest in the warm leaves for me to settle down in.
"You're right, Dan," he said, after a short silence, "when I come to
think of it; I don't exactly see myself where the homelessness comes in.
A bite and a sup and a faithful dog, and a guidwife by a glowing hearth,
and what more is needed to make a home. Eh, Tiddle'ums?"
Tiddle'ums having for some time given the whole of her heart to the
Maluka, nestled closer to him and Dan gave an appreciative chuckle, and
pulled Sool'em's ears. The conversation promised to suit him exactly.
"Never got farther than the dog myself," he said. "Did I Sool'em, old
girl?" But Sool'em becoming effusive there was a pause until she could
be persuaded that "nobody wanted none of her licking tricks." As she
subsided Dan went on with his thoughts uninterrupted: "I've seen others
at the guidwife business, though, and it didn't seem too bad, but I never
struck it in a camp before. There was Mrs. Bob now. You've heard me
tell of her? I don't know how it was, but while she was out at the
"Downs" things seemed different. She never interfered and we went on just
the same, but everything seemed different somehow."
The Maluka suggested that perhaps he had "got farther than the dog"
without knowing it, and the idea appearing to Dan, he "reckoned it must
have been that." But his whimsical mood had slipped away, as it usually
did when his thoughts strayed to Mrs. Bob; and he went on earnestly,
"She was the right sort if ever there was one. I know 'em, and she was
one of 'em. When you were all right you told her yarns, and she'd enjoy
'em more'n you would yourself, which is saying something; but when you
were off the track a bit you told her other things, and she'd heave you
on again.
