Of a great truth;
for, in spite of what "tails" may say, how few there are of us who have
any desire to "get along without the dog."
We left the water-hole about five o'clock, and riding into the Stirling
camp at sundown, found the Dandy there, busy at the fire, with a dozen or
so of large silver fish spread out on green leaves beside him.
"Good enough!" Dan cried at the first sight of them, and the Dandy
explained that the boys had caught "shoals of 'em" at his dinner-camp at
the Fish Hole, assuring us that the water there was "stiff with 'em."
But the Dandy had been busy elsewhere. "Good enough!" Dan had said at
the sight of the fish, and pointing to a billy full of clear, sweet water
that was just thinking of boiling, the Maluka echoed the sentiment if not
the words.
"Dug a soakage along the creek a bit and got it," the Dandy explained;
and as we blessed him for his thoughtfulness, he lifted up a clean cloth
and displayed a pile of crisp Johnny cakes. "Real slap up ones," he
assured us, breaking open one of the crisp, spongy rolls. It was always
a treat to be in camp with the Dandy: everything about the man was so
crisp and clean and wholesome.
As we settled down to supper, the Fizzer came shouting through the
ant-hills, and, soon after, the Quiet Stockman rode into camp. Our
Fizzer was always the Fizzer. "Managed to escape without help?" he
shouted in welcome as he came to the camp fire, alluding to his promise
"to do a rescue"; and then he surveyed our supper. "Struck it lucky, as
usual," he declared, helping himself to a couple of fish from the fire
and breaking open one of the crisp Johnny cakes. "Can't beat grilled fish
and hot rolls by much, to say nothin' of tea." The Fizzer was one of
those happy, natural people who always find the supply exactly suited to
the demand.
But if our Fizzer was just our Fizzer, the Quiet Stockman was changing
every day. He was still the Quiet Stockman, and always would be,
speaking only when he had something to say, but he was learning that he
had much to say that was worth saying, or, rather, much that others found
worth listening to; and that knowledge was squaring his shoulders and
bringing a new ring into his voice.
Around the camp fires we touched on any subject that suggested itself,
but at the Stirling that night, four of us being Scotch, we found
Scotland and Scotchmen an inexhaustible topic, and before we turned in
were all of Jack's opinion, that "you can't beat the Scots." Even the
Dandy and the Fizzer were converted; and Jack having realised that there
are such things as Scotchwomen - Scotch-hearted women - a new bond was
established between us.
No one had much sleep that night, and before dawn there was no doubt left
in our mind about the outside cattle coming in. It seemed as though every
beast on the run must have come in to the Stirling that night for a
drink. Every water-hole out-bush is as the axis of a great circle,
cattle pads narrowing into it like the spokes of a wheel, from every
point of the compass, and along these pads around the Stirling mob after
mob of cattle came in in single file, treading carelessly, until each old
bull leader, scenting the camp, gave its low, deep, drawn-out warning
call that told of danger at hand. After that rang out, only an
occasional snapping twig betrayed the presence of the cattle as they
crept cautiously in for the drink that must be procured at all hazards.
But after the drink the only point to be considered was safety, and in a
crashing stampede they rushed out into the timber. Till long after
midnight they were at it, and as Brown and I were convinced that every
mob was coming straight over our net, we spent an uneasy night. To make
matters worse, just as the camp was settling down to a deep sleep after
the cattle had finally subsided, Dan's camp reveille rang out.
It was barely three o'clock, and the Fizzer raised an indignant protest
of: "Moonrise, you bally ass."
"Not it," Dan persisted, unfortunately bent on argument; "not at this
quarter of the moon, and besides it was moonlight all evening," and, that
being a strong peg to hang his argument on, investigating heads appeared
from various nets. "Seem to think I don't know dawn when I see it," Dan
added, full of scorn for the camp's want of observation; but before we
had time to wither before his scorn, Jack turned the tables for us with
his usual quiet finality. "That's the west you're looking at," he said.
"The moon's just set"; and the curtain of Dan's net dropped instantly.
"Told you he was a bally ass," the Fizzer shouted in his delight, and
promising Dan something later on, he lay down to rest.
Dan, however, was hopelessly roused. "Never did that before," gurgled
out of his net, just as we were dropping off once more; but a withering
request from the Dandy to "gather experience somewhere else," silenced
him till dawn, when he had the wisdom to rise without further reveille.
After breakfast we all separated again: the Dandy to his yard-building at
the Yellow Hole, and the rest of us, with the cattle boys, in various
directions, to see where the cattle were, each party with its team of
horses, and carrying in its packs a bluey, an oilskin, a mosquito net, a
plate, knife, and fork apiece, as well as a "change of duds" and a bite
of tucker for all:
