At our fireside we women did most of the talking, and as we sat chatting
on every subject under the sun, our husbands looked on in indulgent
amusement. Dan soon wearied of the fleeting conversation and turned in,
and the little lad slipped away to the black folk; but late into the
night we talked: late into the night, and all the next day and evening
and following morning - shaded from the brilliant sunshine all day in the
leafy "Cottage," and scorching around the camp fire during the evenings.
And then these travellers, too, passed out of our camp to become, with
the man from Beyanst, just pleasant memories.
"She'll find mere men unsatisfying after this," the Maluka said in
farewell, and a mere man coming in from the north-west before sundown,
greeted the Maluka with: "Thought you married a towny," as he pointed
with eloquent forefinger at our supper circle.
"So I did," the Maluka laughed back. "But before I had time to dazzle
the bushies with her the Wizard of the Never-Never charmed her into a
bush-whacker."
"Into a CHARMING bush-whacker, he MEANS!" the traveller said, bowing
before his introduction; and I wondered how the Maluka could have thought
for one moment that "mere men" would prove unsatisfying. But as I
acknowledged the gallantry Dan looked on dubiously, not sure whether
pretty speeches were a help or a hindrance to education.
But no one could call the Fizzer a "mere man"; and half-past eleven four
weeks being already past, the Fizzer was even then at the homestead, and
before another midday, came shouting into our camp, and, settling down to
dinner, kept the conversational ball rolling.
"Going to be a record Dry," he assured us - "all surface water gone along
the line already"; and then he hurled various items of news at us: "the
horse teams were managing to do a good trip; and Mac? Oh, Mac's getting
along," he shouted; "struck him on a dry stage; seemed a bit
light-headed; said dry stages weren't all beer and skittles - queer idea.
Beer and skittles! He won't find much beer on dry stages, and I reckon
the man's dilly that 'ud play a game of skittles on any one of 'em."
Every one was all right down the line! But the Fizzer was always a bird
of passage, and by the time dinner was over, and a few postscripts added
to the mail, he was ready to start, and rode off, promising the best mail
the "Territory could produce in a fortnight."
Other travellers followed the Fizzer, and the cooking lessons proceeded
until the fine art of making "puff de looneys," sinkers, and doughboys
had been mastered, and then, before the camp had time to grow monotonous,
the staff appeared with a few of the station pups.
