Tom Gerrard Part 10

"It vasn't me at all," protested the hawker. "It vas another Isaac Benjamin altogether."

"What did he do?" asked c.o.c.kney Smith.

"He had a store in Brisbane," said Young, "and insured the stock for about two thousand quid,{*} and made an awful fuss about his being so careful of fire. He bought about fifty of them round gla.s.s bottles full of a sort of stuff called fire exstinker--bottles that you can hang up on a nail with a bit of string, or put on shelves, or anywhere, and if a place catches on fire, they burst, and the exstinker liquid sends out a sort of gas which puts out a fire in no time. One'll do the trick.

* "Quid": 1.

"Well, this chap--of course it isn't your fault, Ikey, that your name is the same as his--was dead set on getting that two thousand quid for his stock, which was only worth about five hundred. But he was such a downy cove--did you ever come acrost him, Ikey?"

"No, never," emphatically replied the hawker, "and he vasn't no relation of mine either."

"Well, as I was saying, he was always making a fearful fuss about a fire, and as he was a member of the Fire Brigade Board, he was always bringing forward ressylutions at the Committee meetings for a better water supply, and all that sort of thing, and he gave a five pound note to the driver of the fire engine because he was a temperance man of fifteen years' standing, and set a n.o.ble example to the Brigade. Did you hear about that, Ikey?"

"No, I didn't," answered the hawker uneasily.

"Well, he did. He hated liquor in any shape or form, he said, and wouldn't sell any in his store on no account whatever, and wanted all the Fire Brigade men and other public servants to take the pledge. And the noosepapers said he was a great-hearted phillyanthropist.

"He had two boys in the store to help him--was it two, Ikey?"

"I don't remember, Mr Young. I vas never much interested in reading about rogueries of any kind."

"Just so! Well, one Sunday night one of the boys came back to the store for suthin' or other, and he sees you--I mean the feller as has the same name--emptying out the fire liquid in the exstinkers, and fillin' em up with kerosene. So, being a cute young nipper, he slips away to the Fire Brigade station and says to the Superintendent, 'Give me ten bob an'

I'll tell you a secret about Ikey Benjamin and his fire exstinkers.'

The Super gave him the money, and the boy tells the yarn, and about two o'clock in the morning the fire bells starts ringin', and Ikey was aroused from a dead sleep with the noos that his store was alight in seventeen places, but that the firemen was puttin' it out vigorously.

How many years did you--I mean the other cove--get, Ikey?"

"I don't know," replied the hawker, "but I do know that I must be getting along to Boorala," and hurriedly gathering together his effects, he departed in a bad temper.

Young gave his mates a solemn wink, and then laughed.

"He's the chap, boys; and if he hadn't started ga.s.sin' about Miss Kate, I wouldn't have started on him. As for what he said about her and Mr Aulain, there's some truth in it. The Inspector is dead sweet on her, I know, but whether she cares for him is another matter. Anyway she hasn't seen him for nigh on two years, so I think it must be off. And you all know what she thinks of the n.i.g.g.e.r Police, don't you?"

The arrival of the G.o.ddess of the Gully with her two companions created quite a little stir at the camp. As soon as Forde and Gerrard had finished their refres.h.i.+ng bathe in the crystal waters of the creek, and returned to the house, they found Kate had supper ready. She had changed her riding dress for a white skirt and blouse, and looked as Forde said, "divinely cool and refres.h.i.+ng."

"Father will be here in a few minutes," she said, as going to a small overmantel she deftly re-coiled her hair, which had a way of becoming loose. "What a nuisance is a woman's hair, isn't it, Mr Gerrard? Now, Mr Forde, _why_ don't you say it is her glory? Don't be shocked at me, Mr Gerrard, but the fact is I am short of hair-pins, and this morning when the filly began bucking, I lost nearly all I had. I think I shall do my hair _a la Suisse_."

"I wouldn't if I were you," said her father, who just then entered after a hasty "wash down" in a tub placed at the back of the house, "there are a lot of native dogs about, and you might lose it."

Both Forde and Gerrard, and Kate as well, laughed loudly, for they all knew that in the winter time, when the dingoes{*} were hungry they would often bite off the tails of calves not old enough to kick off their a.s.sailants.

* The Australian wild dog.

Kate clenched her little sunbrowned hand, and punched her father on his mighty chest. "You rude man! You don't deserve any supper."

Late in the evening, as Forde and his host were walking to and fro outside the house, and Kate was reading Aulain's letter in her room, Gerrard was stretched out upon his bed, smoking his pipe, and talking to himself.

"I wish I had never seen you, Miss Kate Fraser. And I wish Aulain, my boy, that you were safely married to her. And I wish that there were two more like you, Miss Kate--one for me, and one for the parson. And I wish I was not such an idiot as to wish anything at all."

CHAPTER XI

Just as dawn broke, the deep note of a bell-bird awakened Kate from a somewhat restless and troubled slumber; but quickly dressing, she took up a bucket and set off to the milking-yard.

The ground and the branches of the trees above were heavily laden with the night-dew, and in a few minutes her feet were wet through, and then, ere she had walked half the distance to the yard, several long-legged, gaunt kangaroo dogs, who were watching for their mistress, made a silent and sudden rush to welcome her, leaping up and muddying her shoulders with their wet paws, and making determined efforts to lick her hair and face.

Presently a loud whistle sounded from somewhere near, and "c.o.c.kney Smith" appeared driving before him two cows, and in an instant the dogs darted off to him, and let the girl enter the yard in peace.

"Why, Miss Kate, them 'ere dorgs will bite the 'ed off'n you if you don't use a whip on 'em when they get prancin' around like that," and he lashed out at them with the whip he carried.

Kate laughed. "Poor doggies! they badly want a day's kangarooing, so I must not mind their roughness. I think, Smith, if we can only find the missing horses this week we'll have at least half-a-day's run with the dogs on Sunday. To-day I am going with my father to Kaburie."

"Right you are, Miss!" said the young miner, who, like his mates, revelled in a kangaroo hunt. "On'y yesterday near the claim, I seed an old man kangaroo as big as a house, but er course, bekos I was on foot, and hadn't got no dorgs with me, 'e took no more notice of me than if I was a bloomin' howl. 'E just stood up on 'is 'ind legs, and looked at me for about five minutes with a whisp o' gra.s.s hangin' outer 'is mouth; then 'e goes on feedin' has if 'e didn't mind dorgs or 'orses, or men, and hadn't never heerd o' kangaroo-tail soup in 'is life."

"Perhaps we may get him next Sunday, Smith. Now, bail up, Maggie, and if you try to kick over the bucket you'll feel sorry, I can a.s.sure you,"

and she smacked a jet black little cow on the ribs with her strong, shapely brown hand. The beast put her head through the bail; "c.o.c.kney"

quickly pinned her in, then secured her "kicking" leg with a green hide leg rope, and the G.o.ddess of the Gully began to milk. "c.o.c.kney" stood by watching, pipe in mouth, and waiting till Kate was ready for the second cow to be put in the bail.

"Here's Jackey and 'is missus, as usual, Miss Kate," he said, pointing to the slip rails of the milking yard, on which a large "laughing jacka.s.s," and his mate had perched, and were regarding Kate with solemn attention.

"Oh, the poor things! I forgot their bread this morning. I was thinking about something else."

"Don't you worry about 'em, Miss," said Smith, with a grin, "they can take care 'o themselves, Miss Kate."

"Yes, Smith."

"I went to look at that 'ere guinea hen what was sittin' on eleven eggs under that sort o' cotton bush in the 'orse paddock."

"Did you? The chicks will be out in three or four days."

"They are out already, Miss; them two laughin' jacka.s.ses 'as heaten up every blessed egg, and on'y the sh.e.l.ls is lef. I thought I saw 'em flying about the nest, and went to see."

"Oh, the wretches!" cried Kate in dismay.

"Next ter halligaters, laughin' jacka.s.ses his the mischievioustest, and cunnin'est things hin creation," observed Mr Smith; "hif I 'ad my gun 'ere now I could take 'em both hin a line. Look at 'em setting there like two bloomin' cheerybims, who 'adn't never seen a hegg o' any kind but their own."

"Oh, no, don't shoot them, Smith. I feel very mad with them, but wouldn't hurt them for the world. They kill and eat such a lot of snakes--bad snakes, 'bandy-bandies' and 'black necks.'"

"So I believe, Miss. And perhaps that is wot fills 'em with such willianly; they himbibes the snakes' cunning after they 'as digested 'em. I onct heerd a naturalist cove as was getting birds on the Diamantina River say that he was dead certain there wasn't no laughin'

jacka.s.ses in the Garden o' Eding, which was a smokin' great pity."

"Why?" asked Kate, as she rose, put the milk bucket aside, and let Smith bail up the second cow.

"Oh, he says, says he, as he was skinnin' a jacka.s.s which had a two foot whip snake inside him, 'if one o' you fellers 'ad a been in Eding, poor Heve wouldn't 'ave got hinter no trouble, hand we 'uman bein's 'ud go on livin' for hever like Muthusalum. The old serpant,' says he, 'wouldn't a 'ad the ghost of a show hif han Australlyian laughin' jacka.s.s 'ad copped him talkin' to Heve, and tellin' 'er it was orlright, and to go ahead an' heat as much as her stomach would accomydate.'"

"Oh, I see!" said Kate gravely, "I must tell that to Mr Forde."

"'E won't mind--'ell on'y larf," said Mr Smith, who was a talkative young man for an Australian bushman, native to the soil. (The nickname of "c.o.c.kney" had been bestowed upon him on account of his father being a Londoner, who, like a true patriot, had left his country for his country's good.) He was a good-natured, hard-working man like the rest of the hands at the camp, but was the "bad boy" of the community as far as liquor was concerned. Every three months, when Fraser "squared up"