No One Could Call It A
"Commodious Station Home," And It Was Even Patched Up And Shabby; But,
For All That, Neat And Cared For.
An orderly little array of one-roomed
buildings, mostly built of sawn slabs, and ranged round a broad oblong
space with a precision that suggested the idea of a section of a street
cut out from some neat compact little village.
The cook's quarters, kitchens, men's quarters, store, meat-house, and
waggon-house, facing each other on either side of this oblong space,
formed a short avenue-the main thoroughfare of the homestead - the centre
of which was occupied by an immense wood-heap, the favourite gossiping
place of some of the old black fellows, while across the western end of
it, and looking down it, but a little aloof from the rest of the
buildings, stood the house, or, rather, as much of it as had been rebuilt
after the cyclone of 1897. As befitted their social positions the forge
and black boys' "humpy" kept a respectful distance well round the
south-eastern corner of this thoroughfare; but, for some unknown reason,
the fowl-roosts had been erected over Sam Lee's sleeping-quarters. That
comprised this tiny homestead of a million and a quarter acres, with the
Katherine Settlement a hundred miles to the north of it, one neighbour
ninety miles to the east, another, a hundred and five to the south, and
others about two hundred to the west.
Unfortunately, Mac's description of the House had been only too correct.
With the exception of the one roughly finished room at its eastern end,
it was "mostly verandahs and promises."
After the cyclone had wrecked the building, scattering timber and sheets
of iron in all directions, everything had lain exactly where it had
fallen for some weeks, at the mercy of the wind and weather.
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