"It Never Is
Anything But Instinct," He Said, With Quiet Decision In His Voice.
"No
one ever learns horses."
While the Quiet Stockman had been busy rearranging his ideas of
womankind, a good many things had been going wrong at the homestead. Sam
began by breaking both china cups, and letting the backbone slip out of
everything in his charge.
Fowls laid-out and eggs became luxuries. Cream refused to rise on the
milk. It seemed impossible to keep meat sweet. Jimmy lost interest in the
gathering of firewood and the carrying of water; and as a result, the
waterbutts first shrank, then leaked, and finally lay down, a medley of
planks and iron hoops. A swarm of grasshoppers passed through the
homestead, and to use Sam's explicit English: "Vegetable bin finissem all
about"; and by the time fresh seeds were springing the Wet returned with
renewed vigour, and flooded out the garden. Then stores began to fail,
including soap and kerosene, and writing-paper and ink threatened to
"peter out." After that the lubras, in a private quarrel during the
washing of clothes, tore one of the "couple of changes" of blouses sadly;
and the mistress of a cattle-station was obliged to entertain guests at
times in a pink cambric blouse patched with a washed calico flour-bag; no
provision having been made for patching. Then just as we were wondering
what else could happen, one night, without the slightest warning, the
very birds migrated from the lagoon, carrying away with them the promise
of future pillows, to say nothing of a mattress, and the Maluka was
obliged to go far afield in search of non-migrating birds.
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