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Updated: June 4, 2025
'YOWI* I believe when Boss say PHO-PHO, my word! that one PHO-PHO. Plenty black feller frightened. Bridget pushed the unhappy gin along the track. 'You needn't be frightened. Boss has gone away. 'Boss no sit down long-a Humpey? Wombo looked relieved, and while Bridget reassured him, the three moved on towards the crossing.
Her Irish temper rose at the thought that Mrs Hensor might be giving him her version of the Wombo episode. She felt glad that the black-boy and his gin were comfortably sleeping off the effect of their wounds, and of the plentiful meals supplied them in the hide-house, and thus were not in evidence. When McKeith spoke, it was in a dictatorial, angry tone that of the incensed master.
'He's had his eye on Wombo and would be glad of an opportunity to best him on account of a little affair about a colt Wombo rode for him at the last Tunumburra races and lost the stakes out of spite, Harris declares. 'Oh, I know about that and I told Mr Harris what I thought about his treatment of the Blacks. But he can't punish Wombo if I choose to have him here.
A COO-EE sounded long, clear, vibrant. Moongarr Bill and Wombo, who had gone on ahead, were fixing camp. Lady Bridget's musical voice caught up the note. She answered it with another COO-EE, to Cudgee's delight. 'My word! Ba'al newchum, that feller white Mary, said he. They had rounded a knoll abutting on the green line of ti-trees and swamp oak.
Nobody was likely at present to want to go into it. The door had a padlock, and it was used as a store-house for the hides of beasts that had been killed for the sake of the skins when in the last stage of pleuro. The key was always kept hung up in McKeith's office. Here Lady Bridget installed Wombo and Oola.
Knowing the lay of the country too, made it easier than it was before for us. Cudgee has turned out a smarter boy than Wombo was. No fear of Myalls with their infernal jagged spears being round without his sniffing them. One of the horses died from eating poison-bush.
Then he told his own version of the capture and locking up of Wombo, taking blame on himself for having left the key of the hide-house in Maule's possession.
She stole the key from Mr Maule's room when HE was asleep, and let Wombo out when YOU were asleep a longer time perhaps than you imagined, Harris. The black-boy made for the scrub, and I suppose they were in too great a hurry to think of shutting the door.
Wombo plenty frightened long-a ole husband belonging to me. And Oola dropped and knocked her head upon the ground, wailing the ear-piercing death-wail of the Australian native women. 'Oola, you must stop howling! said Bridget, alive to the seriousness of the situation. 'Has Wombo shot your husband with our gun? 'YOWI, Mithis. From Oola's broken revelations Bridget pieced the story.
Well, the little human drama of the Blacks' camp had taken her out of herself for an hour or two. It had been so funny to see Oola stroking the lace frills of Lady Bridget's old petticoat and looking up at Wombo with frank coquetry as she mimicked the 'White Mary's' gestures and gait. Lady Bridget meant to stand by the savage lovers. She would not allow Colin to treat them badly when he came back.
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