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Updated: July 18, 2025
One wretched man may do so much when every thing is dried to tinder. I do so wish it would rain." The night, in truth, was very dark. It was now midsummer, at which time with us the days are so long that the coming of the one almost catches the departure of its predecessor. But Gangoil was not far outside the tropics, and there were no long summer nights.
Medlicot, you must not do that; you will hurt yourself if you move in that way." And so she escaped, and left the room, and did not see him again till the doctor had gone from Gangoil. The bone had been broken simply as other bones are broken; it was now set, and the sufferer was, of course, told that he must rest.
The wool- shed was about two miles from the station, and Medlicot's Mill was seven miles farther, on the bank of the river. Mr. Giles Medlicot, though at Gangoil he was still spoken of as a new-comer, had already been located for nearly two years on the land which he had purchased immediately on his coming to the colony.
"My word! yes," said Jacko, "and I too." "If the devil is to get ahead, he must, but I won't hold a candle to him. You fellows may tell every man about the place what I say. As long as I'm master of Gangoil I'll be master; and when I come across a swindle I'll tell the man who does it he's a swindler.
"Gangoil is my home just as much as it is Mary's; and I sometimes feel that Harry is just as good to me as he is to Mary." "Your sister will never leave Gangoil." "Not unless Harry gets another station." "But you will have to be transplanted some day." Kate merely chucked up her head and pouted her lips, as though to show that the proposition was one which did not deserve an answer.
Then, turning sharply round, he gave his hand to Mr. Medlicot. "I am glad to see you at Gangoil," he said; "I was not fortunate enough to be at home when you called the other day. Mrs. Medlicot must have found the drive very hot, I fear."
Is Jacko in the kitchen? Send him through to me on to the veranda." Gangoil was decidedly in the bush according to common Australian parlance, all sheep stations are in the bush, even though there should not be a tree or shrub within sight. They who live away from the towns live a "bush life." Small towns, as they grow up, are called bush towns, as we talk of country towns.
"Is he the boy you call Jacko?" "That's the name he goes by." "You don't know his real name?" "I have never heard any other name." "Nor any thing about him?" Harry owned, in answer to half a dozen such questions, that Jacko had come to Gangoil about six months ago he did not know whence had been kept for a week's job, and had then been allowed to remain about the place without any regular wages.
Nokes declared that he had come right across Gangoil, and explained that he would not have been at all sorry to meet Master Heathcote in the bush. Master Heathcote had had his own way up at the station when he was backed by a lot of his own hands; but a good time was coming, perhaps.
For the Graphic, in 1873, I wrote a little story about Australia. Christmas at the antipodes is of course midsummer, and I was not loth to describe the troubles to which my own son had been subjected, by the mingled accidents of heat and bad neighbours, on his station in the bush. So I wrote Harry Heathcote of Gangoil, and was well through my labour on that occasion.
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