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Updated: May 21, 2025
It is this freight that makes the grocery bill such a big item on stations out-bush, where several tons of stores are considered by no means a large order. Close on the heels of the Fizzer came other travellers, with the news that the horse teams had got going and the Macs had "pulled out" to the Four Mile. "Your trunks'll be along in no time now, missus," one of them said.
"Now for it!" he shouted, at last joining the company, and Mac felt the time was ripe for his jocular greeting and, ogling the Fizzer, noticed that "The flats get greener every year about the Elsey." But the Fizzer was a dangerous subject to joke with.
Eight mails a year against eight hundred for the townsfolk. Was it any wonder that we all found we had business at the homestead when the Fizzer was due there? When he came this trip he was, as usual, brimming over with news: personal items, public gossip, and the news that the horse teams had got most of their loading on, and that the Macs were getting their bullocks under way.
Perhaps one of the brightest thoughts for the Fizzer as he "punches" along those desolate Downs is the knowledge that a little before eleven o'clock in the morning Anthony's will come out, and, standing with shaded eyes, will look through the quivering heat, away into the Downs for that tiny moving speck. When the Fizzer is late there, death will have won at the dice-throwing.
Now and then a traveller from "inside" passed out, but as the roads "inside" were rapidly closing in, none came from the Outside going in, and because of that there were no extra mails, and towards the end of October we were wondering how we were "going to get through the days until the Fizzer was due again," when Dan and Jack came in unexpectedly for a consultation.
But enamel cups were no hardships to the bush-folk, and besides, nothing inconvenienced us that day excepting perhaps doing justice to further triumphs at afternoon tea; and all we had to wish for was the company of Dan and the Fizzer.
"Yes; she is a noisy little article a perfect whirlwind in the house but she is a little tired this afternoon; she has been seeing those sheep through today." "Don't you think it would be a good lark if I get something and tickle her?" said Goodchum. "Yes, do," said Harold; "but look out for squalls. She is a great little fizzer." "Then she might be insulted." "Not she," interposed auntie.
Inside to Anthony's, three days' spell, over the Downs again, stopping for another drink at that well, along the stage "that's a bit off," and back to the "kid's game," dropping mail-bags in twos and threes as he goes in, and collecting others as he comes out, to say nothing of the weary packing and unpacking of his team. That is what the Fizzer had to do by half-past eleven four weeks.
"Wouldn't be surprised if he took to punching something else besides bullocks before he's through with it," the Fizzer shouted, roaring with delight at the recollection of the Sanguine Scot in a tight place. On and on he went with his news, and for two hours afterwards, as we sat chewing the cud of our mail-matter, we could hear him laughing and shouting and "chiacking."
"Real fine old water too," the Fizzer shouts in delight, as he tells his tale. "Kept in the cellar for our special use. Don't indulge in it much myself. Might spoil my palate for newer stuff, so I carry enough for the whole trip from Renner's." If the Downs have left deep lines on the Fizzer's face, they have left none in his heart. Yet at that well the dice-throwing goes on just the same.
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