On Our Selection Part 16

Six months later. Dinner about ready. "Take up a thousand acres," Dad was saying; "take it up----"

He was interrupted by a visitor.

"Are you Mister Rudd?" Dad said he was.

"Well, er--I've a FI. FA. against y'."

Dad didn't understand.

The Sheriff's officer drew a doc.u.ment from his inside breast-pocket and proceeded to read:

"To Mister James Williams, my bailiff. Greeting: By virtue of Her Majesty's writ of FIERI FACIAS, to me directed, I command you that of the goods and chattels, money, bank-note or notes or other property of Murtagh Joseph Rudd, of s.h.i.+ngle Hut, in my bailiwick, you cause to be made the sum of forty pounds ten s.h.i.+llings, with interest thereon," &c.

Dad understood.

Then the bailiff's man rounded up the cows and the horses, and Dad and the lot of us leant against the fence and in sadness watched Polly and old Poley and the rest for the last time pa.s.s out the slip-rails.

"That puts an end to the land business!" Dave said gloomily.

But Dad never spoke.

Chapter XVIII.

We Embark in the Bear Industry.

When the bailiff came and took away the cows and horses, and completely knocked the bottom out of Dad's land scheme, Dad did n't sit in the ashes and sulk. He was n't that kind of person. He DID at times say he was tired of it all, and often he wished it far enough, too! But, then, that was all mere talk on Dad's part. He LOVED the selection.

To every inch--every stick of it--he was devoted. 'T was his creed.

He felt certain there was money in it--that out of it would come his independence. Therefore, he did n't rollup and, with Mother by the hand and little Bill on his back, stalk into town to hang round and abuse the bush. He walked up and down the yard thinking and thinking. Dad was a man with a head.

He consulted Mother and Dave, and together they thought more.

"The thing is," Dad said, "to get another horse to finish the bit of ploughing. We've got ONE; Anderson will lend the grey mare, I know."

He walked round the room a few times.

"When that's done, I think I see my way clear; but THAT'S the trouble."

He looked at Dave. Dave seemed as though he had a solution. But Joe spoke.

"Kuk-kuk-could n't y' b-reak in some kang'roos, Dad? There's pul-lenty in th' pup-padd.i.c.k."

"Could n't you shut up and hold your tongue and clear out of this, you brat?" Dad roared. And Joe hung his head and shut up.

"Well, y' know"--Dave drawled--"there's that colt wot Maloney offered us before to quieten. Could get 'im. 'E's a big lump of a 'orse if y'

could do anythin' with 'im. THEY gave 'im best themselves."

Dad's eyes shone.

"That's th' horse," he cried. "GET him! To-morrow first thing go for him! I'LL make something of him!"

"Don't know"--Dave chuckled--"he's a----"

"Tut, tut; you fetch him."

"Oh, I'll FETCH 'im." And Dave, on the strength of having made a valuable suggestion, dragged Joe off the sofa and stretched himself upon it.

Dad went on thinking awhile. "How much," he at last asked, "did Johnson get for those skins?"

"Which?" Dave answered. "Bears or kangaroos?"

"Bears."

"Five bob, was n't it? Six for some."

"What, A-PIECE?"

"Yairs."

"Why, G.o.d bless my soul, what have we been thinking about? FIVE s.h.i.+LLINGS? Are you sure?"

"Yairs, rather."

"What, bear-skins worth that and the paddock here and the lanes and the country over-run with them--FULL of the d.a.m.n things--HUNDREDS of them--and we, all this time--all these years--working and slaving and sc.r.a.ping and-and" (he almost shouted), "d.a.m.n me! What a.s.ses we HAVE been, to be sure." (Dave stared at him.) "Bear-skins FIVE s.h.i.+LLINGS each, and----"

"That's all right enough," Dave interrupted, "but----"

"Of COURSE it's all right enough NOW," Dad yelled, "now when we see it."

"But look!" and Dave sat up and a.s.sumed an arbitrary att.i.tude. He was growing suspicious of Dad's ideas. "To begin with, how many bears do you reckon on getting in a day?"

"In a day"--reflectively--"twenty at the least."

"Twenty. Well, say we only got HALF that, how much d' y' make?"

"MAKE?" (considering). "Two pounds ten a day...fifteen or twenty pounds a week...yes, TWENTY POUNDS, reckoning at THAT even. And do you mean to tell ME that we would n't get more than TEN bears a day? Why we'd get more than that in the lane--get more up ONE tree."

Dave grinned.

"Can't you SEE? d.a.m.n it, boy, are you so DENSE?"

Dave saw. He became enthusiastic. He wondered why it had never struck us before. Then Dad smiled, and we sat to supper and talked about bears.

"We'll not bother with that horse NOW," said Dad; "the ploughing can go; I'm DONE with it. We've had enough poking and puddling about.

We'll start this business straightaway." And the following morning, headed by the dog and Dad, armed with a tomahawk, we started up the paddock.