november counted away its days, and tramped down the long stairs of time. at its heels arrived december. now was summer at last begun in this far land.
seven days of every week a fiery sun rolled through a wide, high, empty sky. seven noons of every week discovered that sun mounting a little higher. all day long the roofs of the iron houses glared across the distance, and the walls answered hot to the touch. but surprise—and all that lies within its gates—was not dismayed. evening by evening, when the sun was getting to bed, frowning clouds banked upon the horizon, and mrs. boulder, mrs. bloxham and mrs. niven, gasping in the doorways of their humpies, looked southward and said the rains were coming. and boulder, bloxham and niven put an eye to the roof here, and an eye to the wall there, and thoughtfully picked up hammer and twine. but always in the morning,[pg 273] when the sun rolled out of the east, the least cloud had fled away.
round went the wheel of affairs at surprise valley. the whistle blew shrill at eight o'clock, and the waiting cage emptied the men into the dark ways of their subterranean world. overhead the women bustled about their doors, and the children, grown a little browner and a little harder, pattered about the burnt places and sent abroad their calls. mr. neville, manager, made his tumultuous early round. mr. horrington, general agent, made his nine o'clock march to the hotel. the teams groaned in with firewood. the weekly coach rolled in and out again. the same goats examined once more the same thread-bare strips of ground. the same long-tongued curs dropped down in familiar patches of shade.
early in december mrs. selwyn put her foot down finally and to good purpose. she would not be cooped up in this desperate place with a prospect of presently drowning. if hilton would not come he could stay behind and take the consequences; but she was going by the very next coach. how they would survive the journey in this heat was beyond her powers of comprehension. landing her here without an idea for getting her away was exactly what hilton was capable of.
selwyn bowed to his wife's decision. here he was, asked to pack up traps for home just as the river was at its lowest and there was some thundering good crocodile shooting to be had. soft-hearted fool that he was!
as a result there fell about a great packing up of rods and guns, and a strapping of trunks; and a grey december dawn found the neville homestead up and awake and hard engaged upon the utmost business of departure. a fire kept vigil in the kitchen, conjured there by mrs. nankervis who had forsaken bed to speed a favourite guest. there was coffee in the dining-room, and a generous breakfast of bacon and eggs, though mrs. selwyn could not touch a thing. fortunately selwyn was better able to prepare against the rigours of the day.
breakfast proved an uneasy meal, disturbed by comings in and goings out, with selwyn wandering between the window and the table, and neville strolling round, stick in one hand and coffee cup in the other.
"well," said selwyn presently, feeling considerably better now he could boast a decent lining to his stomach, "you people have given us a first-rate time here, and you wouldn't have got rid of me yet had i my way. gad! i'm a different fellow." he smiled benignly on the assembled company, and presently met maud's[pg 275] answering smile. "some day we may have the good luck to find the way here again. in any case we are soon to see you down south i hear?"
"i promised to come next month."
"i wish we could tempt you too, mr. neville," mrs. selwyn said.
"eh?" said the old man, jerking about. "thanks, but i've no time to be running round the country."
"yes," said selwyn, taking hold of the conversation again. "i think perhaps i shall be wise to have another go of marmalade and toast. there's nothing like starting a journey well supplied. a couple of months back i couldn't touch a thing. not a thing. now i feel another man. i——"
"haven't you a little pity for us at this hour of the morning?" mrs. selwyn enquired.
a terrific frown settled on selwyn's face.
"i was listening," said maud. "i was very interested."
selwyn beamed again.
"you had better get on with the toast then," said neville, "or ye'll be waiting another week. the fellow doesn't like keeping his horses hanging about. he'll be away without you. i may be wrong. huh, huh!"
mrs. selwyn scorned a buggy, and insisted[pg 276] upon walking to the coach. the clock pointed the final minute. selwyn dodged to the back premises to say his most charming good-bye to mrs. nankervis, and with the last hand-shake slipped the smiling sovereign into her clasp. after something of a to-do he brought the dogs round to the front where the rest of the party waited, and they set out upon the journey to the coach. mr. king had turned a deaf ear to the amours of bed and joined them upon the road; and the company made a bold line advancing across the drowsy distances of surprise.
day had arrived, but the sun still delayed its arrival.
"it seems perfectly incredible to be awake in this place and not see the sun," said mrs. selwyn.
selwyn shook his head in deep appreciation of himself. "you had my example."
the day was still in swaddling clothes; but already the men and women of surprise were waking up. surly fires were growing here and there. mrs. boulder was in time to peer from her doorway at the backs of the retreating company; mrs. niven stopped her discourse to niven as she heard voices across the distance; and messrs. bullock and johnson, who were outside their camps at a morning wash, stayed in the towelling of their faces to view the noble sight. it was the week for the visit of mr. pericles smith, travelling schoolmaster, and his two tents stood erect and stiff by the side of the way. as the party of five marched by, a woman's voice was raised.
"perry, aren't you very late this morning? there was not a stick of wood chopped last night."
from the other tent came answer: "in one moment, dear."
"ah, perry, you are not wasting time at that rubbish, already?"
but this time came only a groan and the sound of someone rising to his feet.
the harmony of excursion was nowise upset until the party had arrived within near view of the hotel, before which stood the ancient coach and the five goose-rumped horses asleep in the traces. then selwyn, on the flank, started back. the eyes of all turned to the doorway of the hotel. mr. horrington stood upon the step, stick in one hand, empty tobacco pouch in the other—perhaps a little seedy, perhaps a little depressed, because of the early hour; but firm in the intention of giving his friend bon voyage.
selwyn's hand glided towards a pocket and there found comfort.
"be gad!" he said, "i expected to slip to[pg 278] covert behind his back, and here he is standing at the mouth of the earth."
"you ask for the loan of half-a-crown," said neville, jerking his head. "he, he! huh, huh, huh!"
mr. horrington lifted his stick in majestic salutation. "you didn't expect me, i dare say. however, i had no intention of letting an old friend slip away without a handshake." he laughed his rusty laugh. he recalled suddenly the empty tobacco pouch in his hand. "here's the result of coming away in a hurry. i neglected to replenish this morning. five minutes ago i was thinking of stoking up the first pipe of the day when i saw what had happened. how about the loan of a pipeful? i am always covetous of a dip into your pouch, mr. selwyn. really, i must get the address of your tobacconist before you are off."
then indeed it seemed that mr. horrington led that party of three men through the doorway of the hotel, and later that mr. horrington drank three times at the expense of other people. later still, when the quartette came out into the open, where the sun's rim was climbing over the horizon, it seemed that selwyn's eye was shining and himself full of a sudden energy, that mr. king stepped more briskly than was[pg 279] his wont, and that old neville's laugh was a trifle loud.
time would not listen to delay, and there arrived the final moments. the selwyn luggage was strapped secure beside the mail-bags, and scabbyback and gripper now found an uncharitable seat atop there. joe gantley climbed into the driver's seat and shook the team awake, when they changed to other legs and dropped their heads once more. mr. horrington ran his tongue along the edge of his moustache again. joe gantley picked up his whip, put it down, picked it up a second time, and gave the signal for passengers to mount.
the company gathered close beside the coach. there arose many exclamations and much shaking of hands. last thanks were said. last promises were made. last advice was given. mrs. selwyn mounted without misadventure beside the driver. she still felt most unwell. she did not know whether she was on her crown or her toes. selwyn took his seat at the end of the room, and discreetly and regretfully elbowed the way into a good position. everybody gave more last advice. mrs. selwyn nodded her head graciously and finally. selwyn smiled his most charming smile. maud laughed. neville chuckled. mr. horrington raised his stick augustly. king called out good luck.
joe gantley drew the reins together and cracked his whip. the team jerked into wakefulness and fell into their collars. the coach jerked forward. mrs. selwyn and selwyn jerked forward. scabbyback and gripper jerked forward. there were a tapping of hoofs and a groaning of wood, and the coach rolled towards morning springs.
"well," said the old man looking after it, "i may be wrong, huh, huh! but i reckon we can get along without them. i may be wrong, huh, huh!"
such was the manner of the selwyn going.
even as the coach rolled over the first mile of the journey, and grew pigmy in the distance so that the loitering dust cloud concealed it—even as it bumped across the outskirts of the camp—the crimson sun cast savage glances across the valley, slashing the iron roofs to life, livening the dingy walls of humpies and tents, and wooing the first flies from sleep. over all the camp breakfast fires were growing, and men and women moved in and out of doors on the primal matters of the morning.
december, following the teachings of november, began to spend its days, holding them out one by one and tossing them into the mouth of time. each day proved a little longer and a little hotter to the people of that courageous camp. but though the season drew presently towards the height of the summer, power found the days too short for the journey to surprise.
while maud lived her life at surprise and gave events into the keeping of time, power still rode to pelican pool, but his passion was near its end. as his brain cooled, as his malady abated, he comprehended his position with tragic clearness, and saw the high price of what he had thrown away. his wealth was spent on other wares, and he could not hope to buy it again. so be it. he had chosen a bed of thistles because the flower had seemed soft and gracious, and he would lie on it without complaint. and still he rode day by day to the river.
december grew middle-aged, and every sunset painted once more the swelling cloud wrack in the south, until the evening arrived when mr. horrington borrowed from the staff messhouse the single boot-last of surprise, borrowed from the engine driver a piece of leather belting, borrowed from elsewhere a hammer and cobbler's nails, and sat down to re-sole his boots against grievous days.
