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Updated: May 3, 2025
Little Jenny, who had grown considerably since I had last seen her, and was all the prettier, too, as Mick, I noticed, observed as well as myself, of course opened the door for us; and coming up the passage behind her was mother and father, with the cockatoo `Ally Sloper' bringing up the roar of the procession, all of them laughing and talking, and saying, all in one breath and at the same time, how glad they were to see me and Mick again, old `Ally Sloper' screaming out louder than the lot, "I'll wring your neck!
She stood quite still, and the drover got on and off several times without any difficulty. Then Vaughan tried it in the same way, and found he could do anything with the mare if only he blindfolded the near-side eye when he was mounting. "She's a good little mare to ride, and as game as a pebble," said Mick, when the saddle had been taken off her.
Mick, who was the leading member of our quartet, on the top step of the ladder, was holding on like grim death to the side-rope with one hand, and stretching out the other towards Finlayson, a new boy whom we had not seen before till we joined the Active, he having been drafted from the Boscawen at Portland; and who, in turn, had hold of the tub and was clutching Mick's hand to steady himself.
"Bedad, Oi say no rayson agin it," replied Mick, standing up for the superstitions of his country like a man. "Faith, a banshee can go ony whare he loikes." "Ay?" said the other interrogatively. "What is a banshee, my lad?" "Begorrah," answered Mick, crossing himself, "thet's more'n ony one knows, may the saints presairve us fur mintionin' on 'em!
He was a Musgrave nigger who had recently come down from the Ranges. Mick wanted as many helpers as he could get, for the muster was to be a big one, and he engaged the newcomer without further inquiries. "All right," he said. "What's his name?" Poona grinned and pronounced a name which he knew was quite impossible for a white man's tongue to manage.
Another time, the farmer with whom Mick worked, a very decent, respectable man, happened to call in, and Judy wiped a stool with her apron, and invited him to sit down and rest himself after his walk. He was sitting with his back to the cradle, and behind him was a pan of blood, for Judy was making pig's puddings.
What is it native cat? Goo for 'im!" Thus encouraged, the puppy darted forward barking, and Red Mick stopped leisurely, picked up a large stone, and sent it crashing among the branches. It passed between Hugh and Miss Grant, and came near enough to stunning one or other of them.
Poor Eagle made one or two mistakes, was sworn at, and became flustered and made more and worse mistakes, till Mick began to lose patience. The boy was really doing his best, and he had even taken off his much-prized trousers and shirt in order not to be hindered by them.
"I am all for a strike," said Mick. "'Tisn't ripe," said Devilsdust. "But that's what you always say, Dusty," said Mick. "I watch events," said Devilsdust. "If you want to be a leader of the people you must learn to watch events." "But what do you mean by watching events?" "Do you see Mother Carey's stall?" said Dusty, pointing in the direction of the counter of the good-natured widow.
The native faced in the direction of the station and considered, counting on his fingers. "Yah," he said at length. "Yah. Me think it two day ride, boss." "Two days with a fresh horse, you mean," commented Mick. "Ajax hasn't had a drink for a whole day, remember.... That last water-hole's dry, and the one back of that's nearly a hundred miles from here.... So it must be Sidcotinga.... Let's see.
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