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Updated: June 16, 2025
He had passed so many crossings and fork-ings of the bush-grown road that he gave up trying to keep the ramifications in mind for his use should he find it necessary to turn back. He now went on doggedly, choosing this way or that, as it chanced, hoping to hear a ringing ax or a hunter's gun or a teamster's shout somewhere in those solitudes.
Down at the foot of the hill was a teamster's waggon in camp; the horses in their harness munching at their nose-bags, while the teamster and a mate were boiling a billy a little off to the side of the road. There was a turn in the road just below the waggon which looked a bit sharp, so of course Alfred bore down on it like a whirlwind.
The sunlight was creeping down the gully, it was getting pleasantly warm, and George felt dull and lethargic. Some time had passed when he heard the teamster's shout and saw the man scrambling down the side of the ravine. "Badly hurt?" he asked, on reaching George. "No," said George; "I don't think it's serious; I feel half asleep and stupid. Suppose that's because I hit my head."
Si was a true type of those who had to suffer for the good of others until they learned wisdom in the school of experience. "I'VE GOT to have a man to drive team for a few days," said the Orderly of Co. Q of the 200th Ind. one morning at roll-call. "The teamster's sick and I'm goin' to send him to the hospital to-day." The Orderly-Sergeant of Co. Q was a wily fellow.
Tona talked more picturesquely than she had ever talked before. So Her Royal Highness of the Horseshoe, that wench of a teamster's daughter, was getting into the family, as she had always meant to do! Well, that Queen Virtuous knew which side her bread was buttered on.
And every teamster's bullock or horse, and every shearer's hack, could burst itself free, but I'd make travelling stock pay for it belongs to the squatters and capitalists. All carriers could camp for one night only.
Tona eventually lost all interest in the child, though Roseta was her last resource in that miserable hovel which, in the long nights of winter, was as lonely as a tomb. Tonet and the teamster's daughter were her one concern. That wench was bent on carrying off everything Tona had in the world! First it had been Tonet; but now Dolores had stolen the Rector also.
The company wagon's stalled back somewhere. That spavin-brained teamster's at his old tricks. I want you to take five men off the rear of the company, go back and find that wagon, and bring it up. Be smart about it." "Captain," remonstrated Si, "I'm wetter'n a drowned rat!" "Well, who in thunder ain't?" exploded the Captain. "Do I look as dry as a basket of chips?
'Silent! You'll certainly keep the horses awake and Wake up, I say! You shall!" Leslie thrust the pitchfork into the boards of the floor so uncomfortably near that snoring nose that Pete hitched aside and so admitted himself awake. Molly ran into the box and held the lantern low, while the boy squatted at the teamster's head and thumped it soundly.
She used every minute of leisure during the day, she worked hours into the night, and soon small sums began coming her way. When she had a supply of teamster's heavy mittens, she began on fancy coloured ones for babies and children, sometimes crocheting, sometimes using needles. Soon she started both children on the rougher work with her.
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