CHAPTER II
TOGETHER
And you and I were faithful mates. HENRY LAWSON.
Afterwards--when the blow was a little less heavy as Norah grewaccustomed to it--they talked it over thoroughly.
Norah's education, in the strict sense of the term, had only beencarried on for about two years. In reality it had gone on all her life,spent mostly at her father's side; but that was the kind of educationthat does not live between the covers of books. Together, David Lintonand his daughter had worked, and played and talked--much more of theformer condition than of either of the latter. All that the bush couldteach her Norah knew, and in most of the work of the station--Billabongwas a noted cattle-run--she was as handy as any of the men. Her father'sconstant mate, every day shared with him was a delight to her. Theyrode together, fished, camped and explored together; it was the rarestoccurrence for Mr. Linton's movements not to include Norah as a matterof course.
Yet there was something in the quiet man that had effectually preventedany development of roughness in Norah. Boyish and offhand to a certainextent, the solid foundation of womanliness in her nature was never farbelow the surface. She was perfectly aware that while Daddy wanted amate he also wanted a daughter; and there was never any real danger ofher losing that gentler attribute--there was too much in her of thelittle dead mother for that. Brownie, the ever watchful, had seen to itthat she did not lack housewifely accomplishments, and Mr. Linton waswont to say proudly that Norah's scones were as light as her hand onthe horse's mouth. There was no doubt that the irregular side of hereducation was highly practical.
Two years before Fate had taken a new interest in Norah's development,bringing as inmates of the homestead an old friend of her father's,with his wife and son. The latter acted as Norah's tutor, and found histask an easy one, for the untrodden ground of the little girl's brainyielded remarkable results. To Mrs. Stephenson fell the work of gentlymoulding her to womanly ways--less easy this, for while Norah had nodesire to be a tomboy, she was firmly of the opinion that once lessonswere over, she had simply no time to stay inside the house and beproper. Still, the gentle influence told, imperceptibly softening andtoning her character, and giving her a standard by which to adaptherself; and Norah was nothing if not adaptable. Then, six monthspreviously, the old man they all loved had quietly faded out of life;and after he had gone his widow could no longer remain in the placewhere he had died. She pined slowly, until Dick Stephenson, the son,had taken her almost forcibly away. The unspoken fear that the partingwas not merely temporary had merged into certainty. Billabong wouldknow them no more. The question remaining was what to do with Norah.
"I want you to have the school training," Mr. Linton said, when theytalked the matter over. "You must mix with other girls--learn to seethings from their point of view, and realize how many points of viewthere are outside Billabong. Oh, I don't want you to think there areany better "--he laughed at the vigorous shake of the brown curls--"butthe world has wider boundaries, and you must find them out. There areother things, too"--vaguely--"dancing and deportment, and--er--the use ofthe globes, and I think there's a thing called a blackboard, but I'mnot sure. Dick didn't know. In fact, there's a regulation mill, and Isuppose you must go through it--I don't feel afraid that they'll spoilmy little girl's individuality in the process."
"Is it a big school, Daddy?"
"Yes, I believe so. Several people I know send their girls there. Andit's a great place for sports, Norah. You'll like that. They're keen onhockey and cricket and all sorts of things girls never dreamed aboutwhen I was young. Possibly I may live to see you a slow bowler yet, andplaying in a match! Honestly, Norah, I believe you'll be very happy atschool."
"And what'll you do, Daddy?"
"I don't know," he said, heavily. "I told you I was under sentence."
They sat awhile in silence. It was evening, and they were on theverandah; Mr. Linton in a big basket chair, and Norah curled up at hisfeet in the way she loved. She could not see his face--just then she didnot want to. She said nothing. The moon climbed up slowly, and thefrogs were merry in the lagoon. Far off the cry of a bittern boomedacross the flats.
"Well, at least we've got nine weeks," Norah said at length. "Nineweeks to be mates--and Jim'll be home next week, and he'll be mates,too. Don't let's get blue about it, Daddy. It'll be so horrid when thetime comes, that it's no good letting it spoil these nine weeks. Can'twe try to forget it?"
"We can try," said David Linton.
"Course, we won't do it," Norah said. "But don't let's talk about it.I'm going to put it out of my head as much as ever I can, and have thistime for just Billabong and us. Will you, Daddy?"
"I'll do all I can, my girlie," said her father. "You mustn't start offwith any bad memories; we'll have the most crowded nine weeks of ourlives, and make a solemn resolve to 'buck up.' I'd like to plansomething for this week, but, upon my word, I'm too busy to play,Norah. There's any amount to be done."
"But I don't want to play," Norah said. "Work's good enough for ME,Daddy, if I can work with you. Can't I come, too?"
"I'll be exceedingly glad of your help," said her father--which wasexactly what Norah wanted him to say, and went far to cheer her. Sheput the dismal future resolutely from her, and set out upon the presentwith a heart as light as possible.
It was never dull at Billabong. Always there were pets of all kinds tobe seen to. Mr. Linton laid no restriction on pets if they wereproperly tended, and Norah had a collection as wide as it was beloved.Household duties there were, too; but these could be left ifnecessary--two adoring housemaids were always ready to step into thebreach if "business on the run" claimed Norah's attention. And beyondthe range of the homestead altogether there lay an enchanted regionthat only she and Daddy shared--the wide and stretching plains ofBillabong dotted with cattle, seamed with creeks and the river, andmerging at the boundary into a long low line of hills. Norah used togaze at them from her window--sometimes purple, sometimes blue, andsometimes misty grey, but always beautiful to the child who loved them.Others might know Billabong--visit it, ride over it, exclaim at itsbeauties; but Norah always felt that there were only two who reallyunderstood and cared--Daddy and herself.
Of course there was Jim--the big brother who was seventeen now, and justabout to leave school. Norah was immensely proud of him, and theaffection between them was a thing that never wavered. Jim lovedBillabong, too; but it was only to be expected that six years of schoolin Melbourne would make something of a difference. He knew, in thewords of the old Roman, "There is a world elsewhere." But Norah knew noworld beyond Billabong.
For all that, Jim was distinctly desirable as a brother. He had alwaysmade a tremendous chum of Norah, and the friends he brought home foundthey were expected to do the same. This might cause them surprise atfirst, but they very soon found that "the kiddie" was quite excellentas a mate, and could put them up to a good deal more than they usuallyknew about the Bush. Norah was invariably Jim's first thought. He was abig, quiet fellow, very like his father; not over-brilliant at books,but a first-rate sport, and without a trace of meanness in his generousnature. At school he was worshipped by the boys--was not he captain ofthe football team, stroke of the eight, and best all-round athlete?--andliked by the masters, who found him inclined to be careless over workbut absolutely reliable in every other way. Such a fellow does not winscholarships, but he is a tower of strength to his school.
For the week preceding Jim's return Norah and her father worked hard,clearing up various odd jobs so that their time might be free when theboy arrived. There was a quaint side to this, in that Jim would withoutdoubt have been delighted to help in any station work, which alwayspresented itself to him as "no end of a lark" after the strenuous lifeat school. But it was a point of honour with those at home to leavenone of their work until the holidays and the last week was invariablythe scene of many labours.
Not that there were not plenty of hands on the station. It was a bigrun, and gave employment in one way or an
other to quite a band of men.But Mr. Linton preferred to keep a very close watch over everything,and he had long realized that the best way of seeing that your businessis done is to take a hand yourself. The men said, "The boss waseverywhere," and they respected him the more in that he was nokid-glove employer, but was willing to share in any work that was goingforward. Especially he insisted on working among the cattle, and--Norahwas nearly always with him on his rides--they had a more or lessaccurate knowledge of every beast on the place. Outside the boundaryfences they went very seldom; the nearest township, seventeen milesaway, Norah regarded as merely a place where you called for the mail,and save that it meant a ride or drive with her father, she had neverthe slightest desire to go there.
Summer was very late that year, and "burning-off" operations on therougher parts of the run had been carried on much longer than wasgenerally possible. Norah always regarded "burning-off" as an immensepicnic, and used to beg her father to take her out. Night after nightfound them down on the flats, getting rid of old dead trees, which upto the present had refused obstinately to burn. It was picturesquework, and Norah loved it, though she would have been somewhatembarrassed had you hinted that the picturesqueness had anything to dowith its attractions.
One after another, they would light the stumps, some squat and solid,others rising thirty or forty feet into the air. Once the fires werelit, it was necessary to keep them going; moving backwards and forwardsamong the trees, stoking, picking up fallen bits of burning timber andadding them to the fires, coaxing sullen embers into a blaze, edgingthe fire round a tree, so that the wind might do its utmost in helpingthe work--there were no idle moments for the "burners-off." Sometimes itwould be necessary to enlarge a crack or hole in a tough stump, to gaina hold for the fire. Norah always carried a light iron bar, speciallymade for her at the station forge, which she called her poker, andwhich answered half a dozen purposes equally well, and though not anideal weapon for killing a snake, being too stiff and straight, hadbeen known to act in that capacity also. Every scrap of loose timber onthe ground would be picked up and added to the flames. Some stumps werevery obstinate and resisted all blandishments to burn; but carefulhandling generally ensured the fate of the majority.
There are few sights more weird, or more typically Australian, than apaddock at night with burning-off in process. Low and high, the redcolumns of fire stand in a darkness made blacker by their lurid glow.Where the fire has taken hold fairly the flames are fierce, and showersof sparks fall like streams of gold. Sometimes a dull crack giveswarning of the fall of a long-dead giant; and the burning mass leansslowly over, and then comes down with a crash, while the curiousbullocks, which have poked as near as they dare to the strange scene,fling round and lumber off in a heavy gallop, heads down and tails up.From stump to stump flit the little black figures of the workers,standing out clearly sometimes, by the light of a blaze so fierce thatto face it is scarcely possible; or half seen in the dull glow of asmouldering tree poking vigorously--seeming as ants attacking livingmonsters infinitely beyond their strength. Perhaps it is there that thefascination of the work comes in--the triumph of conquering tons ofinanimate matter by efforts so small. At any rate it is always hard toleave the scene of action, and certainly the first glance next morningis to see "which are down."
Then there were days spent among the cattle--days that always meant thehigh-water mark of bliss to Norah. She road astride, and her specialpony, Bobs, to whom years but added perfection, loved the work as muchas she did. They understood each other perfectly; if Norah carried ahunting-crop, it was merely for assistance in opening gates, for Bobsnever felt its touch. A hint from her heel, or a quick word, conveyedall the big bay pony ever needed to supplement his own common sense, ofwhich Mr. Linton used to say he possessed more than most men. The newbullocks arrived, and had to be drafted and branded--during which latteroperation Norah retired dismally to the house and the socks that had tobe finished in time to be Jim's Christmas present. Then, after thebranding, came a most cheerful time, putting the cattle into theirvarious paddocks.
One day was spent in mustering sheep, an employment not at all toNorah's taste. She was frankly glad that Billabong devoted most of itsenergies to cattle, and only put up with the sheep work because, sinceDaddy was there, it never occurred to her to do anything else but go.But she hated the slow, dusty ride, and hailed with delight a gallopthat came in their way towards the end of the day, when a hare jumpedup under Bob's nose as they rode homewards from the yards. The dogspromptly gave chase; and, almost without knowing it, Norah and Bobswere in hot pursuit, with Monarch shaking the earth behind them. Theaverage sheep dog is no match for a hare, and the quarry easily escapedinto the next paddock, after a merry run. Norah pulled up, her eyesdancing.
"Don't you know it's useless to try to get a hare with those fellows?"asked Mr. Linton, checking the reeking Monarch, and indicating with anod the dogs, which were highly aggrieved at their defeat.
"But I never wanted to get it," said his daughter, in surprise. "It'sperfectly awful to get a hare; they cry just like a baby, and it makesyou feel horrid."
"Then why did you go after it?"
"Why?" asked Norah, opening her eyes. "Well, I knew the dogs couldn'tcatch it--and I believe you wanted a gallop nearly as much as I did,Daddy!" They laughed at each other, and let the impatient horses havetheir heads across the cleared paddock to the homestead.
There a letter awaited them.
Norah, coming in to dinner in a white frock, with her curls unusuallytidy, found her father looking anything but pleased over a closelycovered sheet of thin notepaper.
"I wish to goodness women would write legibly," he said, with someheat. "No one on earth has any right to write on both sides of paper asthin as this--and then across it! No one but your Aunt Eva would doit--she always had a passion for small economies, together with one forlarge extravagances. Amazing woman! Well, I can't read half of it, butwhat she wants is unhappily clear."
"She isn't coming here, Daddy?"
"Saints forbid!" ejaculated Mr. Linton, who had a lively dread of hissister--a lady of much social eminence, who disapproved strongly of hisupbringing of Norah. "No, she doesn't mention such an extreme course,but there's something almost as alarming. She wants to send Cecil herefor Christmas."
"Cecil! Oh, Daddy!" Norah's tone was eloquent.
"Says he's been ill," said her father, glancing at the letter in a vaineffort to decipher a message written along one edge. "He's better, butneeds change, and she seems to think Billabong will prove asanatorium." He looked at Norah with an expression of dismay that wascomical. "I shouldn't have thought we'd agree with that young man abit, Norah!"
"I've never seen him, of course," Norah said unhappily, "but Jim sayshe's pretty awful. And you didn't like him yourself, did you, Daddy?"
"On the rare occasions that I've had the pleasure of meeting my nephewI've always thought him an unlicked cub," Mr. Linton answered. "Ofcourse it's eighteen months since I saw him; possibly he may havechanged for the better, but at that time his bumptiousness certainlyappeared to be on the increase. He had just left school then--he must benearly twenty now."
"Oh--quite old," said Norah. "What is he like?"
"Pretty!" said Mr. Linton, wrinkling his nose. "As pretty as hisname--Cecil--great Scott! I wonder if he'd let me call him Bill forshort! Bit of a whipper-snapper, he seemed; but I didn't take very muchnotice of him--saw he was plainly bored by his uncle from the Bush, so Ididn't worry him. Well, now he's ours for a time your aunt doesn'tlimit--more that that, if I can make a guess at these hieroglyphics,I've got to send a telegram to say we'll have him on Saturday."
"And this is Wednesday--oh, Dad!" expostulated Norah.
"Can't be helped," her father said. "We've got to go through with it;if the boy has been ill he must certainly have all the change we cangive him. But I'm doubtful. Eva says he's had a 'nervous breakdown,'and I rather think it's a complaint I don't believe in for boys oftwenty."
The dinn
er gong sounded. Amid its echoes Norah might have been heardmurmuring something about "nervous grandmother."
"H'm," said her father, laughing; "I don't think he'll find muchsympathy with his more fragile symptoms in Billabong--we must try tobrace him up, Norah. But whatever will Jim say, I wonder!"
"He'll be too disgusted for words," Norah answered. "Poor old Jimmy! Iwonder how they'll get on. D'you suppose Cecil ever played football?"
"From Cecil's appearance I should say he devoted his time towool-work," said Mr. Linton. "However, it may not turn out as badly aswe think, and it's no use meeting trouble halfway, is it? Also, we'veto remember that he'll be our guest."
"But that's the trouble," said Norah, laughing. "It wouldn't be half sobad if you could laugh at him. I'll have to be so hugely polite!"
"You'll probably shock him considerably in any case," said her father."Cecil's accustomed to very prim young ladies, and it's not at allunlikely that he'll try to reform you!"
"I wish him luck!" said Norah. But there was a glint in her eyes whichboded ill for Cecil's reformatory efforts.