consultation, it was notified to their guide and courier that as soon as the tent was struck and the baggage packed, every one would be ready.
The troops being in high health and spirits, in a comparatively short space of time the march was resumed. Wilfred and Guy walked ahead, fowling-piece in hand. Andrew drove the cow, which followed quietly in the rear. The coupled greyhounds looked eagerly around, as if sensible that they were now in hunting country. They were with difficulty restrained when a wallaby, in two bounds, crossed the road and disappeared in an adjoining scrub.
The dry air was pure and fresh, the unclouded sky blue as a sapphire dome, the winding forest road free from all impediment but an occasional ledge of sandstone. If there is any portion of the day ‘when the poor are rich in spirits and health,’ when the heart of youth stirs, when age is soothed with dreams of happiness, it is in that sweetest hour which follows the early morning meal in rural Australia. Dawn is austere, mid-day often sultry, but nowhere will he, whose heart and intelligence respond alike gratefully to that charmed time, find its inspirations more invigorating than in the early summer of Australia. Then the fortunate traveller experiences coolness without cold, and warmth without the heat which produces lassitude.
As the waggon rolled easily along, the horses stepping cheerily on the track, the wayfarers paced over the unwonted herbage with an alertness of mien which would have suggested a very different history.
‘How lovely the shrubs are that we see in all directions!’ said Mrs. Effingham. ‘What should we have given for that golden flowering mimosa at The Chase, or this blue-leaved, pink pointed tree, which I suppose must be a young eucalyptus. Here they are so common that no one heeds them, and yet there are rare plants enough to set up a dozen greenhouses.’
‘Everything is so utterly different,’ said Rosamond. ‘I am most agreeably surprised at the landscape. What erroneous ideas one has of far countries! I suppose it is because we seldom feel sufficient interest to learn about them thoroughly. I pictured Australia a sandy waste, with burned-up reedy grass, and a general air of the desert. Now, here we have woods, a pretty little brook rippling by, rocks and hills, and in the distance a mountain. I could make quite an effective sketch.’
‘The country isn’t all like this, Miss,’ said Dick Evans, with a deferential air. ‘If you was to go two or three hundred miles into the bush, there’s no timber at all; you’ld find it all sand and salt-bushes – the curiousest place ever you see.’
‘How can it be the “bush,”’ inquired Wilfred, ‘if there are no trees? But we are not going so far, at any rate.’
‘Finest grazing land out,’ said Richard the experienced. ‘All the stock rolling fat – no trouble in looking after ’em. If I was a young gentleman, that’s the place I’d make for. Not but what Warbrok’s a pleasant spot, and maybe the young ladies will like it better than the plains.’
‘I fancy we all shall, Richard,’ said Rosamond. ‘The plains may be very well for sheep and cattle, but I prefer a woodland country like this. I suppose we can have a garden there?’
‘Used to be the best garden in all the country-side, Miss, but the Warleighs were a wild lot; they let everything go to wrack. The trees and bushes is mostly wore out, but the sile’s that good, as a handy man would soon make it ship-shape again.’
‘What are we to do for lunch?’ said Annabel, with some appearance of anxiety. ‘If we are to go on roaming over the land from sunrise to sunset without stopping, I shall die of hunger – I’m sure I shall. I keep thinking about those cakes of Jeanie’s.’
‘My dear child,’ said her mother, ‘I daresay we shall manage to feed you and the rest of the flock. I am pleased to find that you have such a famous appetite. To be sure, you have not stopped growing yet, and this fresh air acts as a tonic. So far, we must not complain of the climate.’
‘It’s only a few miles furder on, ma’am, to the King Parrot Waterhole, where we can stop in the middle of the day, and have a bit to eat if the young ladies is sharp-set. I always stop on the road and feed my horses about twelve o’clock. And if the young gentlemen was to walk on, they might shoot a pair of ducks at the waterhole, as would come in handy for the pot.’
When about mid-day they reached the King Parrot Waterhole, a reed-fringed pool, about as large as their English horse-pond, they found Wilfred in possession of a pair of the beautiful grey-breasted wood-ducks (Anas Boscha), a teal, with chestnut and black feathers and a brilliant green neck, also a dark-furred kangaroo, which Dick pronounced to be a rock wallaby.
‘Australia isn’t such a bad place for game,’ said Guy. ‘We found the ducks swimming in the pool, three brace altogether, and “Damsel” caught this two-legged hare, as she thought it, as it was making up that stony hill. I like it better than Surrey.’
‘We shall find out ever so many interesting things,’ said Rosamond. ‘I shall never feel thankful enough to that good old Professor Muste for teaching me the small bit of botany that I know. Now, look at this lovely Clianthus, is it not enough to warm the heart of a Trappist? And here is that exquisite purple Kennedya, which ought, in an Australian novel, to be wreathed round the heroine’s hat. Do my eyes deceive me, or is not that a white heath? I must dig it up.’
‘I believe, Rosamond, that you could comfort yourself on Mount Ararat,’ said Annabel. ‘Why, it will be ages before those ducks can be picked and roasted. Oh, Jeanie, Jeanie, can’t we have them before tea-time? I wish I had never seen them.’
‘If you like, you can help me take off the feathers, and spare Jeanie’s everlastingly busy fingers,’ said Beatrice.
Here Annabel looked ruefully at her tiny, delicate hands, with a child’s pout.
‘Oh, it’s no use looking at your pretty hands,’ said the more practical Beatrice. ‘This is the land of work, and all who can’t make themselves useful will be treated like the foolish virgins in the parable. It always makes me smile when that chapter is read. I can fancy Annabel holding out her lamp, with an injured expression, saying, “Well, nobody told me it was time to get ready.”’
‘Beatrice, my daughter,’ said Mrs. Effingham gravely, ‘sacred subjects are not befitting matter for idle talking; dispositions vary, and you may remember that Martha was not praised for her anxiety to serve.’
At mid-day the kettle bubbled on the fire, kindled by the ever-ready Richard, cakes and sandwiches were handed round, the tea – thanks to Daisy – was gratefully sipped.
The sun shone brightly on the green flat, where the horses grazed in peace and plenty. The birds chirped and called at intervals; all Nature seemed glad and responsive to the joyous season of the southern spring.
Thus their days wore on, in peaceful progression, alike free from toil, anxiety, or adventure. The daily stage was accomplished, under Dick’s experienced direction, without mistake or misadventure. The evening meal was a time of rest and cheerful enjoyment, the night’s slumbers refreshing and unbroken.
‘What a delightful country this is! I feel quite a new creature, especially after breakfast,’ exclaimed Annabel one morning. ‘I could go on like this for months, till we reached the other side of the continent, if there is any other side. Will it be as nice as this, I wonder, at Malbrook, or Warbrok, or whatever they call it? Warbrok Chase won’t look so bad on our letters, when we write home. I must send a sketch of it to cousin Elizabeth, with a bark cabin, of course. She will never believe that we have a real house to live in among the backwoods. What sort of a house is it, Dick? Is it thatched and gabled and damp and delightful, with dear little diamond casements like the keeper’s lodge, or is it a horrid wooden
