Oh, a dozen'll do, seeing
we've got steak "; and I limply showed all I had - fifteen.
Dan scratched his head trying to solve the problem. "Never reckon it's
worth beginning under a dozen," he said; but finally suggested tossing
for 'em after they were cooked.
"Not the first time I've tossed for eggs either," he said, busy grilling
steak on a gridiron made from bent-up fencing wire. "Out on the Victoria
once they got scarce, and the cook used to boil all he had and serve the
dice-box with 'em, the chap who threw the highest taking the lot."
"Ever try to boil an emu's egg in a quart-pot?" the man from Beyanst
asked, "lending a hand" with another piece of fencing wire, using it as a
fork to turn the steak on the impromptu gridiron. "It goes in all right,
but when it's cooked it won't come out, and you have to use the quart-pot
for an egg-cup and make tea later on."
"A course dinner," Dan called that; and then nothing being forthcoming to
toss with - dice or money not being among our permanent property - the eggs
were distributed according to the "holding capacity" of the company: one
for the missus, two for the Maluka, and half a dozen each for the other
two.
The traveller had no objection to beginning under a dozen, but Dan used
his allowance as a "relish" with his steak. "One egg!" he chuckled as he
shelled his relish and I enjoyed my breakfast. "Often wonder how ever
she keeps alive."
The damper proved "just a bit boggy" in the middle, so we ate the crisp
outside slices and gave the boggy parts to the boys. They appeared to
enjoy it, and seeing this, after breakfast the Maluka asked them what
they thought of the missus as a cook. "Good damper, eh?" he said, and
Billy Muck rubbing his middle, full of damper and satisfaction, answered:
"My word! That one damper good fellow. Him sit down long time", and all
the camp, rubbing middles, echoed his sentiments. The stodgy damper had
made them feel full and uncomfortable; and to be full and uncomfortable
after a meal spells happiness to a black fellow.
"Hope it won't sit too heavy on my chest," chuckled the man from Beyanst,
then, remembering that barely twelve hours before he had ridden into the
camp a stranger, began "begging pardon, ma'am," most profusely again, and
hoped we'd excuse him "making so free with a lady."
"It's your being so friendly like, ma'am," he explained. "Most of the
others I've struck seemed too good for rough chaps like us. Of course,"
he added hastily, "that's not saying that you're not as good as 'em. You
ain't a Freezer on a pedestal, that's all."
"Thank Heaven," the Maluka murmured and the man from Beyanst sympathised
with him. "Must be a bit off for their husbands," he said; and his
apologies were forgotten in the absorbing topic of "Freezers."
"A Freezer on a pedestal," he had said.
