CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.
"WHEN THE CAT'S AWAY."
The girls, seeing how pale and depressed Mrs Braydon looked atbreakfast next morning, began by way of a diversion to banter theirbrother by solemnly asking him for orders--whether he was going to bevery strict and severe in his rules; whether he intended to put thestation in a state of defence, and drill them or train them in the useof their weapons.
Nic took it all in good part, as he made an excellent breakfast, hisappetite being sharpened by two hours' busy work with the men andinspecting some of the stock, ending by finding for the three Englishmentasks that required performing close about the house, and others for thethree blacks, who had promised to be very industrious while the masterwas away, were also found close at hand.
"They'll all be here if wanted," Nic confided to his sister Janet; "forI must go a very long round to drive in some of the cattle on the farrun. Father meant to have gone with me to-day."
"It is hardly necessary to be so particular, dear," said Janet; "but itwill make mother more comfortable. I don't think I would say that youare going far."
"No, I did not mean to," replied Nic. "I shall go round and see thatthe men are at work all right, and then mount and be off just as if Iwere only going a little way."
"When will you be back?"
"About three or four o'clock at the latest."
Directly after breakfast he went and saw that the men were at work, saida word or two of praise to the blacks, whose faces shone withsatisfaction; then going to the stable he saddled his horse, led it tothe fence while he fetched his gun, mounted and rode off, unconscious ofthe fact that Brookes, who was busy in the wood-shed, was watching him.
Samson also rested upon his spade in the garden, and gazed with a smileat the lithe, active lad as he cantered easily away, looking as if heand the beautiful little highly bred horse were one.
Then Leather caught sight of the lad, and his face darkened, as he feltlow-spirited and had an intense longing to go with him somewhere faraway from the work about the station.
Just at the same moment Bungarolo, who had been busy weeding, raised hiskeen eyes, noted the direction Nic had taken, gave his trousers a hitch,grinned, dropped upon his chest, and began to creep rapidly like a slugtoward the gate in the fence, through which he passed, and continued hisway to where the other two blacks were busy cleaning out the cow-shed.
What followed did not take long. There was a whispered jabbering, ahappy grin upon each face, and then, as if by one consent, the threeblacks stripped off their shirts, unbuttoned and kicked off theirtrousers, and stood up in their native costume of a waistcloth.
The clothes were bundled together into a corner, three spears and asmany nulla-nullas and boomerangs drawn from where they were tucked inthe rafters, and the trio astonished a cow tied up in a corner with hertender calf by going through a kind of war dance, and all in silence.
Then the cow felt better in all probability, for there was no sign ofthe calf being stunned with a club to be cooked for a holiday, theperformers of the dance stepping lightly to the door, out of whichBungarolo peered cautiously before dropping down upon his breast andcrawling rapidly off to the garden fence, without disturbing the twocollies, though Nibbler, who lay as if asleep, opened one eye, liftedhis tail, and brought it down with a rap and closed the eye again.
He opened it, though, twice more as the other two blacks passed him inthe same way, gave two more sharp raps with his tail, and then sniffedat the last black as if wondering how he would taste. But as he had hada pretty good piece of a drowned sheep, he subsided and closed the eye,not even turning his head to gaze after the three blacks as they glidedon right under the fence on the side farthest from the house, and closeby where old Sam was contentedly digging, in perfect unconsciousnessthat the three great children were off to the bush for a jovial day,hunting for fat grubs, honey, snakes, and other picnic delicacies in theglorious open wilds.
Half an hour had passed, during which Brookes went to the door of thewood-shed three times to scowl at Leather; but the convict was hard atwork at the end of the wood-yard, chopping away at rails which he wassplitting, tapering at the ends and piling on a heap, ready for somefencing that was to be done as soon as there was a little time.
Brookes felt ill-used. He would have liked to find the assigned servantyawning and doing nothing, or taking advantage of the master's absenceto have a nap, and give him cause, as he was in his own estimation headman now, to let loose his tongue at the man he hated intensely.
But there was no excuse, and Brookes went back into the shed.
"I shall catch him yet," he muttered. "Only let him give me a chance."
But Brookes could not rest. He pitched the soft bundled-up fleecesabout irritably, for they annoyed him. He wanted something hard, andgrowing more restless from a desire to show his authority, he went towhere the two blacks should have been cleaning out the cow-shed.
Brookes had come out of the blinding sunshine, and the shed was dark andcool. He did not see the blacks, but he was not surprised, for theirfaces would naturally assimilate with the gloom.
"Here, you two," he growled, "nearly done?" an unnecessary question, forhe knew that their task to be done thoroughly would take them some hoursat their rate of working.
"Do you hear, you charcoal-faced beggars?" he shouted; but of course allwas still, and satisfying himself, by picking up a manure fork, thatthey were not asleep in a heap of straw by jobbing the handle insavagely, after making an offer with the tines, he uttered a low growl,and, fork in hand, went out to look sharply round about the yards; butnot a soul was in sight.
"Ah!" muttered Brookes, "that's it, is it? Cuss 'em, I might haveknown." Then, urged by a sudden thought, he went back into the longcow-shed, and looked round till he caught sight of the old trousers andshirts lying in a heap.
"Hah!" he ejaculated, shaking the fork handle, "just wait till they comeback. I'll make them see stars."
Then, striding out, he made for the garden, where, with his sleevesrolled up and the neck and breast of his shirt open, old Samson wasdigging away, turning over the moist earth, and stooping every now andthen to pick out some weed that was sure not to rot.
"Hi, Sam!" cried Brookes.
"Hullo!" said the little old fellow, going on with his digging,whistling softly the while.
"Where's Bungarolo?"
"Down yonder weeding."
"Nay," he cried.
"Yes, he is. I saw him ten minutes ago."
"He's started off with the other two."
"Nay!"
"He has, I tell you!" cried Brookes. "They've left their rags in thecow-shed, and all gone."
Samson showed his yellow teeth and chuckled.
"Just like 'em," he said; "just like 'em."
"I don't see anything to grin at," growled Brookes.
"Nay, you wouldn't, my lad; but I do. `When the cat's away the micewill play.' I wonder they've stopped steady at work so long."
"What?"
"They're on'y big savage children, lad," said the old man, "and youcan't alter 'em. `'Tis their natur' to.'"
"Natur' or no natur', they shan't play those games while I'm masterhere."
"Eh? Didn't know you was, Brooky."
"Then you know it now. P'r'aps you're going to give yourself aholiday."
"Having one," said the old man, breaking a refractory clod.
"And going to take yourself off to the bush to have a corroborree withthe blackfellows."
"And if I was I shouldn't ask your leave, Snaggy," said the old man,showing more of his teeth. "There, let 'em go. They'll come back andwork all the better after."
"Heugh!" cried Brookes, giving vent to a final grunt; and he turned awayand stalked out of the garden, striking the fork-handle down at everystep.
"Lookye here," said old Samson, taking up a spadeful of earth, andaddressing it as if part of the dust of the earth of which he was made,and therefore worthy of his confidence: "s
ooner than I'd have oldBrooky's nasty temper I'd be a kangaroo or a cat. I'm sorry they slopedoff, though. Hang the black rascals! Master Nic'll be so wild, an'nat'rally, when he comes back."
Brookes turned and glared once at old Samson, who occupied the positionabout the place that he felt ought to be his; and, going straight backpast the various sheds, he looked round toward the wood-yard, and thenhis eyes glistened with satisfaction. Short as the time had been,Leather had left his work.
He paused for a moment or two, to make sure that there was no regular_chop-chop_ at the end of the rails, and with a grin of satisfaction hewalked quickly to the spot where he had seen the convict at work.
He looked about the stacks of wood, stepping softly and peering roundinto shady corners, expecting and hoping to see his fellow-servantasleep; but he was disappointed, and five minutes elapsed before theconvict came back, axe in hand.
"Seen either of the blacks about, Mr Brookes?" he said.
"Why?" snarled Brookes.
The convict looked surprised, but he said gently: "I want one of them tocome and turn the grindstone handle. This axe is getting very dull."
"You lie, you lazy hound!" roared Brookes. "I've had my eye upon you.Your master's out, and so you think you're going to skulk, do you? Ifthere's any more of it, over you go to Dillon's for a taste of the cat."
The blood flushed through the convict's bronzed skin and his eyesglistened, but only for a moment, and he said quite gently, for he sawNic in his mind's eye: "It was the simple truth. I was wasting time."
"Yes, I know you were wasting time!" roared Brookes. "You're alwayswasting time, and I won't have it. Your master's out, and I won't haveit. Get on. I'll have that pile o' rails done before you leave offto-night; so no more shirking, do you hear?"
A feeling of fierce resentment made the convict's nerves quiver; but hethought of Nic, and, controlling his anger, he took a step or two to theblock on which he cut the rails, picked up one, and gave it a couple ofchops.
"Quicker there, lout!" roared Brookes; "and none of your sulky lookswith me."
The convict took up another rail, while Brookes stood over him with thefork-shaft playing up and down in his hand; while, emboldened by theother's meekness, he went on with a brutal tirade of abuse, calling upevery insulting expression he could think of, and garnishing them withbad language, till the convict winced as if under blows.
"Trying to humbug me with your lying gammon about the axe. It's assharp as sharp."
"It is not, sir," cried the convict, angrily now. "Take it and judgefor yourself."
He held it out so quickly that Brookes started back, and brought downthe fork-handle with all his might, striking the axe from the man'shand.
"What!" he roared. "Would you, you murderous dog? Take that--andthat--and that!"
As he spoke he struck again savagely with the stout ash handle, thesecond blow falling heavily upon the convict's shoulder, the thirdcoming sharply upon his head and making the blood spurt forth from along deep cut.
Then the fork was raised for another blow; but, quick as lightning, theconvict flung himself forward, and his fist, with all the weight of hisbody behind it, caught his assailant full in the face, sending him downto strike the back of his head against the edge of the wood block, andlie there yelling for help.
"Murder! help! Sam!" he roared, as he lay there, a ghastly object, withthe convict's foot planted upon his chest, he too bleeding freely fromthe wound in his head.
At one and the same time Mrs Braydon, her daughters, and old Samsoncame running up in alarm.
"Here! what's the matter?" said the latter, while Mrs Braydon turnedsick at the horrible sight, and caught at her elder daughter's hand.
"Can't you see what's the matter?" cried Brookes. "Get a gun, Sam,quick! He tried to murder me."
"No, no!" cried the convict, startled by the charge, and shrinking fromthe horrified and indignant-looking Mrs Braydon and the two girls.
"He did, missus," cried Brookes, struggling to his feet. "I had tospeak to him for idling, and he struck at me with the axe. There itlies, and if I hadn't had this fork he'd ha' killed me. You see, he'smost mad: why don't you get a gun, Sam?"
"I don't want no gun," said old Sam snappishly. "He didn't cut yourhead like that with the chopper, did he?"
"Yes, yes: look! I'm bleeding 'most to dead."
"Looks more as if you'd gone down on the block. There, missus: hadn'tyou and the young ladies best go indoors?"
"No; not yet," cried Mrs Braydon indignantly. "In my husband's absencetoo! Man, man, have you not been well treated here?"
"Yes, madam," said the convict hoarsely.
"Such an outrage--such a cruel outrage on Dr Braydon's trustedservant!"
"What he said, madam, is not true," cried the convict, recoveringhimself now from the giddiness produced by the stunning blow. "I didnot, I could not raise the axe to him."
As he spoke he turned his eyes from Mrs Braydon to her daughters, andhe shivered as he saw Janet's indignant look.
"I tell you he did," cried Brookes, holding the fork now threateningly,as soldiers would bayonets. "He tried to murder me. Sam, are you goingto fetch a gun?"
"Yah! I'm going to fetch a bucket o' water if you won't do it yourself.Missus--young ladies, why don't you go? This ain't the place for you."
"No," said Mrs Braydon, taking Hilda's hand. "Come in, Janet."
But for a moment Janet did not stir, held as she was by the convict'simploring look as he said, addressing Mrs Braydon, though as if forher:
"Indeed, madam, it is not true. This man struck me brutally: I forgotmyself--I did strike him in return."
"Yes," said Mrs Braydon coldly; and; uttering a sob, Janet gave theconvict a reproachful look and followed her mother into the house.