power rode out of surprise with the hag of reproach seated at the crupper of his horse. he would have proved poor company for a wayfarer; but fortune left him to follow the road alone, and he pushed his fagged mount to some pace, and ate up the distance to pelican pool.
the evening had aged when he arrived on the bank of the pool. the hour was ten o'clock. we woo sleep early at surprise, for she proves wilful mistress here, and power believed himself too late. he heard the whimper of the dog, and a bark checked in the throat, and then the horse jumped under him in a difficult shy. he threw a glance into the dark for the cause, and, lo! moll gregory sat at the foot of a tree as still as the trunk supporting her. at once the hag of reproach left her seat. moll rose from her waiting place and came forward with a little laugh of greeting. the jealous dark stole her countenance from power's eyes, but her figure defied[pg 146] its embrace, and she came up to his horse young and careless and bewitching. he thought of a young tree starting on its journey towards the sky. he tightened the rein, the horse stood still, and he fell to staring down on her. straightway he forgot time and the ill humours of the day.
"you are awful late, mister?"
"it's a long way from surprise."
"i was near giving you up, and then, mr. power, you would have caught it next time we met. i'm not a girl for a fellow to say yes and no to all the day."
"but now i am forgiven, i must get down. what about the horse? there's not a yard round here, is there?"
"dad is always talking of putting up something, but i haven't seen it yet."
"he is quiet enough. i'll hitch him here. there's the saddle to come off. i won't be long."
when the saddle stood on end at the foot of a tree, and the bit hung loose, then power made ready for what the hour would bring. the insects were busy, creeping down neck and ears, and crickets kept concert in all corners of the dark. it would grow no cooler until dawn, and soon afterwards the sun would start up into the sky. at a little distance, a light shone through the hessian wall of gregory's dining-room, and[pg 147] sometimes a voice came from there. power felt in no mood for the inside of the place.
"i have been riding all day. where shall we sit down?"
he was led to a seat by the tree trunk. they sat down a little apart. branches held a latticed canopy over them, and the lattice work let in the starlit sky. the dog mooched round as company.
"so you had given me up?"
"yes, mister. i'd been waiting there i forget how long. dad and mum started to row when we was washing up, and i flung out of the place in a temper. i set about a bit of fishing by the pool. it isn't bad fun these nights. sometimes you get a bonza haul. but it's awful dreary sitting by the bank alone. i don't know what's took me lately, but i get terrible tired of things. i reckon it's since mr. king told me of all there was to be seen away from here."
they sat in a lap of land on top of the bank, where it fell sharp to the water, and just now a fish leapt in the shallows.
"shall we fish, mr. power?" she said. "the rod is down there somewhere. they were too slow when i came out, and i gave it over."
"we will."
they found a roadway down the bank. they found the rod. they sat upon the bank. she[pg 148] put the rod over the water, and power took a pipe from his pocket.
"they call you moll, don't they? i am going to be a friend of yours. may i call you molly? i think it prettier than moll."
"orl right, mister. we won't quarrel over it. i reckon the mosquitoes like fishing too. do you fish ever?"
"sometimes. i shoot most when there's spare time. i like fishing though."
"struth! something's at me now. i won't yank yet. these fellers give a good bite when they mean business."
"do you often come here? i've ridden by many times and watered my horse here; i've watered a good few mobs of cattle here, too. but i never knew how beautiful it was until i fished to-night."
"now and again i get fair sick of mum and dad, and then i come and fish or take a walk along the bank. i like listening to the things that move in the dark."
"what do you hear?"
"oh, the fishes are always jumping in the shallows, and sometimes a crocodile sticks his nose up, and times i surprise a turtle in the sands. there's plenty of kangaroos thumping along for a drink—strike me! hark at that fellow."
"yes, he's noisy enough for an old man—molly."
"can't you get out 'molly' easier? there's no call to jerk your head over it."
"it was not hard to say. it lies gently on the tongue. and so you make friends with the animals? if you are here in winter time you will find the pelicans fishing at dawn, and spoonbills, too, as white as snow. you have heard of snow, i suppose? it falls among the mountains down south in july and august—molly."
"it don't come easy yet. i reckon molly is no harder to say than 'my princess.'"
"does it fall as kindly on the ear as 'my princess?'"
"i like 'my princess,' and i like molly. i can do with two friends since i was so long without one.... now, what are you thinking of, mister? you sit staring at the pool and sucking yer pipe. why don't yer talk? you are as dummy as the fishes what won't come at my hook."
"i was thinking a week or two can make a queer change in a man's fortune."
"it do. luck takes a turn times when things look dreadful hopeless. straight wire. i tell you i've watched the water o' nights, and thought about settling things up. and then, like a cow to[pg 150] a new-dropped calf, you fellows came along to liven things."
"we came along one day and found you here, and now all the roads on kaloona run lean to pelican pool. molly, do you know all you have done? think, molly, a moment. have you kind word for my friend, mick o'neill? or for mr. king driving through the heat from surprise?"
"good enough for them what they get."
"don't you believe in love?"
"mr. power, you are too fond of questions. i shall be giving you the rod soon to hold. don't you think a girl may have a bit of fun? it's awful hard when a man likes you to tell him to clear out. wake up, mister; you are awful dilly sometimes. what do you see in the water to stare at?"
"every 'yes' spoken now will take a deal of unspeaking later on. tell me, are you a little fond of mick?"
"i reckon there's a bite. look at the float, and the water rippling."
"that bite can wait your answer."
"he's a good figure of a man, isn't he?"
"he is."
"he can sit a bad horse with the next man, can't he?"
"he can."
"he's pretty slick through scrub, and isn't the last on the heels of a mob. i reckon many a girl wouldn't toss her head there."
"and mr. king?"
"he knows how to talk to a girl; but it don't take his fat off him, do it? he's as old as dad; but he's shook on me, and no error. he puffs terrible in the sun, but he comes as often as he can. he told me there would be something for me in a coach or two, but i said he could keep it. first i liked a bit of attention, it had been so dull; but now i can get as good elsewhere."
"send him gently about his business, then, for i think loving is easier than unloving."
"there's not going to be any sending about business. he can come if he wants, and he can stay away. i know how to be not at home, and he can try his hand talking to bluey, the dog. now, don't start preaching, mister. you can go on sucking that pipe. i'm not at the call of every feller of fifty who gets shook on me."
"your own troubles will come one day, molly, and you will grow a little kinder because of them. the new boot is poor company for the foot, and the heart grows softer with a bit of wear and tear. and so you are ready to punish two men, and all their crime was looking overlong into your eyes. are only your glances kind, molly? have the suns of twenty summers baked[pg 152] your little heart? haven't you a memory or two of sorrow stored away to make you softer now? no, don't pout."
"mr. power, you seem uncommon interested in other people. i don't see call for you to worry what i do. i reckon my comings and goings aren't your concern. mister, you can hear well from where you are. it's time you took a hand at fishing."
"have you never found time to fall in love; or have you been too busy saying 'no?' molly, you were born a candle, and men will come from all the corners, like the bush insects, to scorch in your flame. where did you steal your hands? a sculptor would break his chisel despairing of them. what paradise gave you them that the bush might stare them into decay? molly, molly, you must have a soul, or what sits in your eyes all day making men drunken?"
"mr. power, you're a poor fisherman."
"have you never loved, molly?"
"maybe yes, and maybe no, and it's not you, mr. power, i'm starting blabbing to."
"tell me."
"aw, you'd laugh."
"no."
"straight wire?"
"straight wire."
"there's nothing to tell. some's been round[pg 153] that i've laughed at and sent away, nor thought nor cared what came of them. and one or two i've liked a little. and one or two has made me cry. but when one fellow goes, there's another to come after him."
"has a man held you in his arms? have you ever been kissed into kindness? what are you laughing at? don't laugh, i say!"
"of course a girl's been kissed. i don't think ever was a time i wasn't kissed. why a girl would go dummy with only an old dog as mate, and a kangaroo or two, and maybe an old goanna to watch. what are you frowning for? my lips aren't kissed away."
"the jewel that takes long getting is highest priced. let's go back to fishing. you have told me enough.... no, i can't fish to-night. we might be a hundred miles away from anyone down here. sooner or later you will go away; but i shall never ride past the pool again without remembering you. i shall come here every year, when the castor-oil tree flowers, for it was flowering when first i saw molly gregory standing in the doorway of her tent, holding a lantern above her head.... isn't it still? the night is too close.... molly, why are you so beautiful? don't you know the night is in love with you? that's why the fishes are jumping. don't you know the kangaroo and his mate are stooping to[pg 154] drink down there, that they may share the same pool with you? molly, a man and a girl are only young once. it is all over in a few quick years. all life to live in that time. a world to see.... molly, wake up. don't look into your lap. your rich body is spoiling. the bush is jealous of beauty, and would claw the fairest works with her lean fingers. molly, wake up and live."
"aw, talk, talk, and who is the better for it in the end? i can go back to the humpy more miserable, if that is what you want. mr. king comes with his grand tales, and drives off in the buggy, leaving a girl to cry her eyes out in a room of bags. i hate the bush. i would spit it out of my mouth, as dad spits the suckings of his pipe out at the door. what does the bush give you? just gives you nothing. never a man or a girl to speak to. just wash up, wash up, wash up. and carry the water from the creek. and bail up the goats when you've got them. and a ride to the store as a treat. and make your johnny cake half the week, because you haven't the heart to make bread, or haven't built the oven. and no schooling. and not a church to go to, even if you did want to. and just the clothes to wear as nobody will take in town. and growl, growl, growl all day from everyone round. and if you have a few looks, there's nobody to tell you what they think of them. oh,[pg 155] you don't know how sick i am of it. i fall dreaming sometimes, and think some man comes and takes me right away. and then mum gets on to me for mooning. i'll get married some day to a looney boundary rider, and live in a hut all me life, and have a pack of children, and grow as skinny as the best of them. if i have daddy looks then i'll sell them to the first man who'll pay me. the first man to take me away can have me, and he can drop me when he's tired."
"don't talk like that. don't dare to talk like that. you and i will fall out, girl, if there's much of that spoken."
"turning parson, mr. power?... listen, there's mum. hallo! what is it?"
a voice came through the dark. "mick o'neill's round for half-an-hour. aren't yer coming in? you'll go ratty moonin' there all night."
"coming!"
the spell was broken. power forsook fairyland for everyday. moll gregory and he walked towards the house through the close night. the spikes of the grasses bent under their feet, and insects voyaging through the dark brushed their faces. gregory stood in the doorway of the hut, fingering his dirty beard and talking to o'neill. "hullo, moll, got company?" he cried. "why,[pg 156] it's mr. power. come right in. there's always a seat inside here waiting for mr. power."
"hullo, boss," o'neill said, "i thought you were down at surprise."
"i promised to look in some time or other. good evening, mrs. gregory; you have late visitors to-night."
the company found seats in the mean room, which was hard taxed to serve everybody. there was no change in the place since power had gone away. on the rough table stood the wash basin. the shelf at the back held the crockery. the boxes stood on end for seats. the wire strainer and the potato digger lay in the corner. power took all in as he filled his pipe again.
"i reckon you make the old place lively dropping in like this," mrs. gregory began, looking from one to the other, and leering at gregory when the time came. "dad was saying you had been a long while away, and must be hitched up on the road."
"things went like wedding bells," said power. "we put in a couple of days at morning springs. that kept us."
"a bit of a spree?" questioned gregory.
"we are respectable men on kaloona."
mick o'neill had sat down, pushing his spurred feet in front of him across the room. he had brought a new shirt on his back and had[pg 157] dressed his legs in clean trousers, belted with a bright knotted handkerchief. a hat with a gay dent in the crown had fallen upon the table. he had arrived pleased in advance with what might befall, a laugh prisoned in his mouth, a merry word harnessed to his tongue. he sat there, a man forgetting the past where the present was kind; a good fellow who must quicken the heart of any man or woman. maybe so thought power, who lost little of what went round.
"things aren't much changed here, are they, mr. power?" said gregory in a minute or two. "a man don't feel much like putting a house ship-shape at night after a day's shovelling. that show has got me beat. gone down into rock now."
"it's time i kept my promise of a hand," said mick. "i reckoned for you to be half way under the river."
"no buyers since we were away?" power asked.
"mr. king still has it in his eye; but it's gaff, and he has found a better show than mine. a-haw, haw, haw! a-haw!"
"we've missed you gentlemen since you went," mrs. gregory followed up, looking hard at the visitors. "haven't we, moll?"
"dunno. what's this, mick? did you bring along your music? good lad!"
o'neill picked up an accordion from the floor. "you said you liked a bit of fun. i thought to knock a tune or two out later on."
"that's what we want here," cried gregory very loud. "do you think you could find mine, mother; or was it broke up?"
"have a look in the tent. it was under the stretcher last."
in a little while gregory came from the tent blowing the dust from his accordion, and the rest of the evening passed on speedy heels with song and tune and dance. the dust was kicked out of the earth floor by stepping feet, and sounds of "hurrah" startled the elderly night. faces flushed; voices grew loud. gregory swung on his box, opening and closing his arms, knocking the sweat from his forehead, and sending abroad his "a-haw." mrs. gregory grown amiable watched from the back, and busied herself presently boiling a kettle of water.
power left the hut for the homeward road ere the merrymaking was worn out. the music followed him through the dark, as he saddled and bitted his horse. he had made ready soon, and had turned the beast home. a soft bed waited him at kaloona instead of the couch of grasses that had been his portion for the week. but maybe he was to sleep no better because of it.
