CHAPTER XIII

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*OFF FOR THE HOLIDAYS!*

"Boyhood is the natural time for abundant play and laughter, without which rarely does high health touch young cheeks with its rose-bloom, or knit bones strongly for the fighting and the toiling that awaits them."--JOSEPH H. FLETCHER.

"Now then, Norah, look slippy with breakfast! It's half-past six, an' Sandy's to be here at seven. Said he'd leave the station at five with the spare horse for me."

"Begorrah! at the rate breakfast's cookin' it'll be midnight before it's ready. 'Tis the bastliest wood that niwer was."

"Time the fish was fryin', Norah."

"Fish, bedad! For two pins ye wuddent have anny fish. The thrubble Oi've had wid thim! Phwat for did youse lave thim in the bag all night? If ye'd put thim out on the dish, ye spalpeen, Oi'd have seen thim and claned thim long ba-fore Oi wint to bed. 'Sted of which it's tuk me two morchial hours to scale the brutes, they was that dry and hard. Be Saint Pathrick, they scales was loike porky-pine's pricklies!"

"Sorry, Norah; my fault as usual," remarked Joe good-humouredly. "Father called out to turn the horse from the lucerne just as I reached the back door. So I threw the bag down on the steps to chase the moke, an' clean forgot 'em when I came back."

"Well, Oi'll forgive ye wanst more, which makes about a million tousandth toime; but, moind ye, 'tis----"

"All serene, Norah! Oh, I say, Norry, I'd nearly forgotten it! Paddy Lacey asked me yesterday to tell you that they want you to go to the Hibernian picnic on Boxing Day. They've chartered the _Firefly_, an' are goin' down to the Bar."

"God's truth! 'tis only gammoning me ye are, Masther Joe. It's a young thrick ye be, indade, with yure Hayburnion picnacs."

"It's as true as true, Norah. No make-up this time. An' oh! I say, d'you know what Jimmy Flynn tole Tom Hawkins?"

"Nawthin' good, bedad!"

"Ain't it! Well, opinions differ. At any rate he was goin' to set a line on Friday night, an' as he was roundin' the point he hears somewheres ahead of him a noise between a smack an' a crack. Then comes a bit of a squeal, an' a woman's voice sings out: 'Don't, stop it!' Then there was another smack-crack, an' just as he got round the corner he sees a couple, for all the world like you and Paddy, sittin' on a log. No, 'twas Paddy that was on the log, an' you were on Paddy's----"

"Ye loi-in spalpeen! Oi'll pull yure tongue from betune yure teeth," screamed Norah, as, blushing furiously, she chased the nimble Joe out of the kitchen right into the arms of Sandy M'Intyre, as he was coming up the back doorstep.

"Hello, Sandy!"

"Hello, Joe! What's row inside? Norah givin' you the rounds of the kitchen as usual, eh?"

"Only jiggin' her about Paddy Lacey, an' got her _paddy_ up a bit. You're up to time, Sandy, ole man. By jing! I see you've brought Curlew in. Am I to ride him? My word! it is good of your governor to let me. I thought you'd a brought the piebald."

"So I intended, but he was limpin' when he was run into the stockyard; so father says, 'Take Curlew.'"

Curlew was Mr. M'Intyre's favourite horse, and Joe was highly honoured in being allowed to ride this mettlesome but lovely paced steed.

Just then breakfast appeared. After a substantial meal Joe brought out his father's valise and strapped it to the saddle.

"All ready, Sandy? Good-bye, mother. Good-bye, father. Good-bye, girls!"

And so, with kisses and cautions from the family, the boys mounted their steeds and cantered down the street to the punt, on their way to Bullaroi, as Mr. M'Intyre's station was called.

Across the river the boys were joined by Tom Hawkins, who was to accompany them. Tom, who was mounted on a brisk pony, greeted them with a cheery cry as the punt reached the shore. A jollier trio of young Australians could not be found than this chattering, capering band, who on that brilliant morning raced along the bush track.

Plans of fun and frolic were projected during the ride, including astounding adventures that would have taken half a year to carry out. In anticipation the lads were already having tip-top fun. Tom's riotous imagination, especially, made the spoils of the gun, the rod, and the chase to assume brobdingnagian proportions.

In due course they pulled up at the slip-rails marking the Bullaroi boundary line. Thence to the white gate seen in the distance, and which fronted the homestead, a mad race ensued. In this Curlew was first, the rest nowhere. Indeed, Curlew became so excited by the gallop and the shrill shoutings of the riders that Joe, who had made no attempt to pull him till the horse was almost on the gate, found it impossible to stop his steed, which was full of running. Before the boy fully realised it, Curlew was soaring through the air, clearing the gate by at least a couple of feet. Joe, parting from the "pigskin," was sailing through space on his own account, leaving a foot or two between his sit-down and the saddle seat.

Joe, though a fair rider, was not a practised steeple-chaser. He was not a horseman, as were Sandy and Tom, who were to the manner born. Little wonder, then, that his heart rose with the horse and his rider, and for some brief moments palpitated furiously in his mouth. That mysterious and natural law of the universe called gravitation was on hand, however, and saved the situation.

Curlew's hoofs struck the ground on the descending curve as lightly as a cat. Joe's legs, which in this aerial flight had assumed the shape of an inverted V, came plop into the saddle at the right moment. But his body was thrown forward, his hands clutching frantically at the horse's neck and mane. In this condition, unable to recover his equilibrium, with but the loss of his hat, the rider is carried over the intervening distance to the stables, amid loud laughter from the station people, who had been attracted by the shouting of the boys.

Sandy cleared the gate in pursuit of Joe, but failed to catch him. Tom was obliged to haul up and open the gates, as the jump was too high for his pony. Thus the rider of Curlew came in a winner, and all three dismounted amid laughter and teasings.

"Weel, Joseph, my lad," said Mr. M'Intyre, who possessed a pawky humour, "Johnny Gilpin couldna hae done the trick better. You kep' up wi' Curlew, anyway. I thocht he was goin' to leave ye behind. Ma certie it's deeficult to say which is the winner, you or the horse. We'll juist ca' it neck an' neck."

"Take no heed to him, Joe," said Mrs. M'Intyre. She saw through the lad's apparent good-humour a sense of humiliation at his unhorsemanlike entry. "You did well to stick to him, not knowing his intention. But come away in, boys; ye'll be ready for something to eat after that ride. We're right glad to see you. Sandy was so excited last night at the prospect of your coming that I am sure he didn't sleep a wink. Why, he had the horses saddled at dawn, and was off without a bite if I hadn't stopped him and made him drink a cup of coffee."

The day was a busy one on the station. Every one was engaged in finishing off jobs and cleaning up. For during Christmas week, and until after New Year's Day, only that which was absolutely necessary in the way of work was expected.

During the previous week drafting and mustering had been the all absorbing work on the run. That finished, and a mob of "fats" despatched overland to Maitland to catch the Christmas market, the last few days were occupied in culling "boilers" and in branding calves. On this particular day all the available hands were engaged in tidying up; the whitewash bucket being in great request.

Willy and Jacky, the aboriginal boys, together with an Irish lad,--Norah's brother, in fact,--were enrolled as whitewash artists. Their special work consisted in converting dingy looking hen-roosts, dog-kennels, pigsties, milking sheds, and the like into a brilliant white. Meanwhile two of the men, with rough brooms made of stiff brushes, were sweeping the ground within a fair radius of the house.

Inside, the housework was prosecuted with great vigour. Two gins were set to work with the scrubbing brush; while in the kitchen, where Mrs. Mac and the two elder daughters were domiciled, Christmas cooking went on apace. There was, indeed, such a weighing of flour and raisins, such a slicing of candied peel, such a dressing of flesh and fowl as to make Ah Fat, the cook, fairly amazed, and to wonder how in the name of Confucius the oven was to stand the cooking strain that was being brought upon it. While from the kitchen an odoriferous perfume was wafted across the yard, assaulting all noses, and breeding high anticipation, most pleasurable from the standpoint of creature comforts.

Mr. M'Intyre, no patron of idleness either in man or boy, took the lads early in the day into the harness room, and set them to the task of cleaning the saddle and harness ware. Saddles, girths, bridles, various sets of light and heavy harness, required attention. All leather was to be well cleaned and oiled, stirrups and bits to be burnished, and broken straps to be repaired.

The pals threw themselves, _con amore_, into the work. It was hard to say which moved the more briskly, tongues or hands. The afternoon was well advanced before the last piece of steel and electro silver was polished, the last girth and surcingle refitted, and the whole placed on their respective brackets. This task finished, the boys felt that they had earned the promised reward--a glorious swim. Within a couple of hours of sunset the whole of the outside work was accomplished, and, for the time being, each employe was a free agent.

The homestead faced a large affluent of the river, which was known as Crocodile Creek. Why the creek was so named was a sort of a mystery. No species of the saurian tribe was ever known to infest its waters. The name may have been given to it through some fancied resemblance in its course to the aforesaid reptile.

Crocodile Creek formed a fine frontage to Bullaroi run, being distant from the homestead about a quarter of a mile. Immediately opposite, the creek widened out into a fine sheet of water some three miles long, and varying in width from one hundred to one hundred and fifty yards. There was a particular spot which stood about seven or eight feet above the water. Here Mr. M'Intyre had a spring-board constructed. The water was fully twelve feet deep at the jump off, and, added to other advantages, formed an ideal spot for bathing purposes.

Having finished their allotted tasks, the lads came bounding out of the harness-room and across the yard to the house, shouting, as they capered, "Who's for a swim?" The stockmen certainly looked, and no doubt felt, that the one thing above all others necessary for their ease and comfort after the stable and the house-yard cleaning operations was a plunge into the cool, sweet waters of the creek. If they were semi-black by reason of their employment, it was no less true that the black boys, Willy and Jacky, were semi-white.

Dennis Kineavy, the Irish lad, was the "broth of a bhoy," and all three were cram full of impishness. No sooner were the finishing touches of whitewash decoration given, than Denny, sneaking up behind Willy and Jacky, who stood off a little from the hen-roost admiring their artistic handicraft--with capacious brush well charged with the sediment of his bucket--smote them in quick succession across the bare shoulders and breech, and then, with an Irish yell, darted round the stable.

Surprised for the moment, but nothing loath, the black boys snatched their buckets, wielded their brushes, and, shouting their native war-cry, dashed off in hot pursuit; Denny dodged them successfully for a while, but was at length outflanked, and then ensued a battle royal which only ceased when the supplies of ammunition (whitewash) were exhausted.

It was at the tail-end of the fray that Sandy and his mates came racing along with the cry of, "Swim O! Swim O!"

Boys and men, black and white, were all ready and willing, nay, eager, for a jolly bogey.[#] There was a rush by the whites for towels; then, in quick procession, the motley band made for the water.

[#] "Bogey," native name for bathe.

After a plunge and a short swim to get rid of the dust and muck, an impromptu carnival was arranged. First of all came the long dive. This meant a run along the spring-board and a dive straight out. The diver in each case, when reaching the surface, had to tread water, keeping as nearly as possible to the spot of emergence.

Tom Hawkins led off, the others followed in order at twenty seconds' interval. The blacks, by reason of their native abilities in this direction, were made to do the dive with arms interlocked, Siamese twin fashion. The darkies were the whippers-in of this diving procession. Tom, who led off, faltered in his stride when leaving the spring-board. He rose to the surface at about thirty feet from the bank. Joe, who followed, dived a good ten feet farther out than Tom. Sandy, however, when he shot up through the water, was fully fifty feet from the shore. Both of the stockmen beat Joe, but were behind Sandy.

Then came the blacks, side by side. With an even, measured, and springy stride they raced down the board, which was wide enough to admit of this manoeuvre. They took the water without a splash, like a pair of frogs, leaving scarce a ripple. It was naturally thought that by being coupled in this way matters would be evened. It was the general opinion that they would fail to reach Sandy's limit, and probably not get beyond Joe's. The boys eagerly awaited their reappearance, watching the water closely for some sign. After what appeared to be an interminable period they were startled by a double cooee, and, lo! the twins, so to speak, had risen at least twenty feet beyond Sandy, or seventy feet from the shore.

Somersault diving followed the long distance trial. In thia Harry the stockman, who had been a circus rider and acrobat in his youthful days, outshone all the others.

Then came the exciting game of "catch the devil." Willy was chosen devil. It was his business to dive off the spring-board and run the gauntlet, the others being scattered in the water. To catch the aboriginal seemed a comparatively easy matter, all things considered. He was, however, a superb swimmer and trickster, diving and dodging like a cormorant. A dozen times surrounded, he marvellously eluded his pursuers. The game was at its height, and there was no knowing how long the "devil" would remain at large, when the station bell rang out a lusty summons to supper.

This brought the carnival to an instant conclusion. And now each swimmer scrambled for the shore, and soon the whole company, with clean bodies and healthy appetites, were hieing along the track. When the boys reached home they found a new arrival in the person of a young Englishman. This gentleman was out on a business tour, and, being anxious to see something of station life, was recommended to Mr. M'Intyre by a mutual friend. Mrs. M'Intyre's hospitality was proverbial, and Neville, for such was the "new chum's" name, was heartily made welcome.

The day had been a long one, and, supper ended, the boys were quite resigned to go to bed, or at least to the bedroom. The noises therefrom, after their retirement, were very suggestive of prime larks, and continued long after lights were out. The pals were domiciled, to their great delight, in a big spare room, which contained a double bed and a single one. Joe and Tom shared the former, while Sandy camped on the latter, which was, indeed, his stretcher brought in for the occasion.

Silence reigned supreme at length within, and without was broken only by the hoarse croaking of the frogs, an occasional call from a night owl, and the weird wail of the curlew.

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