By Blow and Kiss. Boyd Cable
your face in he wasn’t pleased. I don’t wonder at him bringing someone to cook for him.”
“Well, she can cook for ’im an’ you too, for all o’ me,” snapped Blazes. “I’m done wi’ this job. Sheep here’s bad enough, but a woman – that’s the finish, that is,” and he stumped off.
He had threatened to throw up his job too often for the men to believe it, and now their minds were on something more interesting.
“D’you s’pose we’ll ’ave to wear jackets when she’s knockin’ about?” said Whip Thompson, glancing at his bare arms.
“You’ll have to wash your shirt oftener,” said Aleck Gault, laughing.
“I haven’t seen a woman for more’an hour or two in months since I was a kiddie,” said Darby the Bull. “It’ll seem odd-like allus havin’ one about the place.”
“Seems to me it’s going to be a blame nuisance,” growled Ned Gunliffe.
“Give ’er a chawnce, mates,” said Jack Ever. “She may be all right, an’ anyways she’s a woman. There’s plenty places where the men ’ud give their ears to have a woman round all the time.”
“They’re some as could give longer ears – an’ that’s asses,” said Ned.
“Hush, children,” said Aleck Gault, reprovingly. “I’m afraid, Steve, our Happy Home is to be broken with strife and dissension. Just the bare word of a woman, you see, and the quarrels break out.”
“Paradise invaded,” scoffed Steve Knight. “Look at the Paradise around you, and glance at us, the angels who fear a woman will disturb us.”
“It’ll please you, I suppose, Fly-by-Night. Save you some moonlight trips if you’ve a girl to spark right at home here,” said Ned Gunliffe.
“You’re right, Ned,” said Knight, good-humouredly. “First thing I want to know is whether she can sew and darn. If she can, I’m going to spend all my spare time courting her while she sews patches on my breeches and darns my socks.”
“Why not marry her an’ done with it while you’re at it?” said Gunliffe. “You’d only have to ask ’er you know. Was there ever a woman yet could resist Fly-by-Night when he rode up a-courting?” He spoke with a hint of a sneer in his tones, and, remembering an old tale of an episode in which Knight and he and a girl had been concerned, the men guessed at a hidden edge to the words. But if there was, Steve Knight ignored it.
“No chance, Ned,” he said lightly. “You see, my trouble with the girls is that the good ’uns find me out, and the bad ’uns I find out, and, either way, marryin’ is off.”
“Couldn’t ye choose a middlin’ one?” said Whip Thompson, banteringly.
“No,” said Steve; “a middling girl would be like a horse that would always trot – too slow for me if I want to go fast, and a nuisance to have to hold in if I want to walk.”
“I knew a gal once – ” said Darby the Bull, and paused.
“And a safe way to know her too, Darby,” cut in Steve. “But when you marry her you must know her for always.”
“I asked ’er to marry me – I was half drunk at the time – an’ she said if I meant it I was a fool, an’ if I didn’t I was a rogue, and either ways she was better without me. I allus remembered that though I never knew just what she meant.”
“Did you still mean it when you sobered?” said Steve, chuckling.
“I did,” said Darby, solemnly.
“Then she was right, only there was a pair of you,” said Steve. “You were a fool to ask her, and she was another not to say yes.”
Darby the Bull looked puzzled. “D’you think every man that marries is a fool then?” said Whip Thompson.
“I wish I could think so,” said Steve, gravely, but with his eyes twinkling, “but I’m afraid not, worse luck for him.”
“You’d think women was man-eaters t’ hear you,” said Jack Ever.
“Most of them are,” said Steve.
“Huh,” grunted Jack, “if we believe all we see an’ ’ear you ain’t scared enough of ’em to keep away from ’em.”
“No,” said Steve, lightly; “but I’m scared enough to keep outside the cage they’re in. When you’re married you’re inside the bars, and can’t get away if you want to.”
“D’you ever tell your girls all these things you think o’ them?” asked Thompson.
“I do,” said Steve, promptly, “and a lot more I don’t think of them. And, mostly, they don’t believe I mean what I really think of them, and do believe the lies I tell them. That sounds a bit mixed, but I mean they usually believe the lies and disbelieve the truth.”
“Rot,” said Gunliffe. “I reckon a woman can spot a lie quicker ’n a man.”
“Yes, when she wants to,” said Steve, “but – she doesn’t always want to.”
“If I felt like you, Fly-by-Night,” said Darby the Bull, “I’d run a mile if I saw a pretty girl comin’.”
“If you were like me,” said Steve, laughingly, rising and stretching himself, “you’d run many miles – to meet her. Be glad you’re not like me.”
“I am,” said Darby, so simply and earnestly that the others roared with laughter, and Steve Knight winced in the darkness, though his laugh rang as loud as any.
Aleck Gault rose to his feet. “Well, it’s time we turned in,” he said. “Perhaps we’ll dream of the bright eyes of Scottie’s niece.”
“Let’s hope they’re not what Blazes supposed – eyes like a boiled cod and teeth like tombstones, wasn’t it?” said Knight. “Though, perhaps for the peace of Thunder Ridge, it’ll be best if the prediction’s right.”
CHAPTER II
“Are ye tired, lass?” said Scottie.
Ess Lincoln straightened her bent shoulders.
“Yes,” she admitted, “I am, rather. It was so bumpy and rough and dusty in the coach. But it was interesting in a way, and the driver was so good. I think he was delighted to get an ignorant city new chum to tell his tales to, of the wonders of the back-country. He was astonished that I’d never been anywhere in the real out-back, but he didn’t seem to think I’d any reason to be astonished when he told me he’d never seen any of the big cities in Australia, and had never even seen the sea.”
“There’s more like him about,” said Scottie, “though they’re gettin’ fewer.”
“When do we come on to the station?” asked Ess.
“We’ve been drivin’ through one of the paddocks of it since half an hour after we left the township,” said Scottie.
“But isn’t a paddock where you feed the sheep?” said Ess in surprise.
“Aye, when there’s feed on it,” said Scottie. “There’s sheep in this paddock now, but it’s big an’ they’re scattered lookin’ for feed.”
The girl gasped. “But there isn’t a sign of grass,” she protested. “Why aren’t they in a paddock where there’s more grass?”
“Because this is one of the best we have left,” said Scottie, grimly. “It rins up to the foot o’ the hills ye’ll see and it gets the last drain o’ the water off them. But there’s been a dry spell awhile back and most o’ the grass is gone.”
“How dreadful,” said Ess Lincoln, gazing with wide eyes on the bare plain that shimmered in the heat. “I’ve heard of how little grass there is out here in dry weather, but I never dreamed it was as bad as this. Why, there’s no grass.”
“The