The Pioneers
Page 8
CHAPTER VIII
It took Mrs. Cameron some time to make her round of visits. But she wasvery pleased with the result of them. On the afternoon of the third day,she drove in a high spring-cart, up the steep hillside, on the top ofwhich a shanty had been built only a few months before.
It was a stopping place for stockmen and travellers on the overlandtrack, the only one between the scattered settlements on the other sideof the ranges and the Wirree River. From the head of the ranges itlooked down on the falling slopes of lesser hillsides and on the widesweep of the inland plains. It was not more than five or six miles fromAyrmuir, but she had made it the last place to visit, thinking that shemight not have time to get to it before her husband was due to returnfrom the Clearwater. She had settled in her own mind to make a separatejourney some afternoon if she could not include it in this one. But herplans had gone well and briskly.
All the women she had seen thought the school a good idea and wereanxious to have it; the men had promised to help in the building, and topay the share that she had mentioned as likely to be asked of them forthe Schoolmaster's services.
Davey had enjoyed the first part of the excursion as much as she had. Hehad romped and run wild with boys and girls on the homesteads they hadbeen to. It was only when they were leaving Ross's that morning he hadbeen disturbed. After his mother and Mrs. Ross had kissed good-bye, Mrs.Cameron had shaken hands with Ted and Mick Ross and kissed littleJessie, and he had shaken hands with Mrs. Ross and grinned at the boys,Mrs. Ross exclaimed:
"Why Davey hasn't said good-bye to Jess!"
She had lifted the child up to his face. Jess's soft skin against hisand her wet baby mouth overwhelmed him with confusion. He brushed hiscoat sleeve across his cheek.
"Oh Davey!" his mother laughed.
Mrs. Ross laughed too, and Ted and Mick giggled hilariously.
Davey had climbed into the cart and taken his seat by his mother, angryand offended. He had no idea why they were laughing at him; and he satstolid and sullen, brooding over it all the morning.
When they came to the ramshackle house of grey palings, with a roof ofcorrugated iron, on the top of the hill, two or three dogs flew out,barking furiously. A bullock-wagon was drawn up on the side of the road,and a lean stock horse, hitched to a post, stood twitching his tail tokeep the flies away. Half a dozen scraggy fowls scratched and peckedabout the water-butt.
A bare-legged little girl with wind-tossed dark hair ran out and stoodstaring at them. She had a little white, freckled face, and eyes as shyand bright as a startled wild creature.
Mrs. Cameron got down from the cart, leaving Davey in it holding thereins.
"Good-day," she said to the child. "I want to see Mr. Stevens."
The child stared at her.
Then a man came to the dark doorway of the house, a lean, lithe man,with bearded chin and quick restless eyes.
She went towards him and explained in a few eager words why she hadcome.
"Will you come in and take a seat, ma'am," he asked, his voice vibratingstrangely.
She went into the house; its very shadow exhaled a stale smell of crudespirits and tobacco.
"You'd better give Lass a drink, Davey," she called. "I'll be backpresently."
The room she stepped into was kept with an attempt at orderliness. Itwas bare and cleanly. The dull afternoon sunshine garnished its barewalls, the rough chairs and the bunks against the wall. The man hadfollowed her into the room and now faced her. There was a suspension ofthe breath in his nostrils as this quiet, grey-clad woman lifted hereyes to his.
Neither of them spoke for a few minutes.
People passed and repassed the room, feet dragged, curious glancesstrayed into it.
"If you recognise us--give us away--the game's up," he muttered.
"I understand," Mrs. Cameron said.
"Steve made some money on the fields," he said. "He bought this placeand Deirdre and I came with him to see him settled. Deirdre--the childyou saw outside--belongs to me."
"It's about her I came," Mrs. Cameron explained hurriedly, glad to leavethe ground of troubled memory.
She described the scheme for getting a school in the district, buildinga room somewhere on the roadside, at a point where it could be reachedby children of the scattered clearings.
"Who's to be the teacher?" he asked.
Sitting on a low form, he leaned across the table and gazed at her.
Through the open window she could see Davey sitting up very stiff andstraight in the spring-cart. He had taken his red history book from hispocket and was pretending to read. The child whom the man before her hadcalled Deirdre was standing staring at him. A smile flitted across Mrs.Cameron's face. She thought that Davey had not forgiven her sex for thediscomfiture it had put upon him that morning, and was determined tohave nothing to do with little girls.
"That's our difficulty, the teacher," she said. "The only persons whohave the education, who are able to be teachers, are--"
"Transports--convicts," he interrupted harshly. "Beg your pardon,ma'am"--his voice dropped contritely as he continued--"You were sayingthe only persons in the colony who could be school teachers are personsof evil character who could not be depended on not to corrupt thechildren. What are you going to do then?"
"We thought if we could get a young man with the education, who seemedreformed, we would give him a chance," she said. "For a while themothers would go to the school and sit there during some of thelesson-times to see--"
"That the children did not learn more than their reading, writing andarithmetic."
"Yes," she smiled. "Do you think you would be willing to let your littlegirl come to the school if we can get a teacher?"
He flung off his seat and strode restlessly up and down the room.
"She's a wild cat. She wouldn't go unless--"
He threw back his head looking at her, a blithe defiance creeping intohis eyes and voice.
"Unless you made me the teacher," he said. "What would you say if Iapplied for the post?"
"You!"
Her eyes were wide with amazement.
"Oh I thought so!" he laughed. "But your reformed young man would havesomething of a past too, you know, and it might not be as clean even asmine. It's a pity you won't consider me as a likely person. I've gotwhat you call the 'education.'"
"Have you?" she asked eagerly. "The grammar, geography, all the--thelearning that is--'essential to a liberal education'?"
"All that, and letters after my name for it," he said, bitterly. "ButI'm an Irishman ... I called myself a patriot--and any stick is goodenough to beat a dog with. I don't know exactly what they called myoffence--'inciting to revolt,' or 'using seditious language,' perhaps;but I have earned my sentence since I got here. It was that I was doingall the time in New South Wales and the Island--'inciting to revolt' and'using seditious language' ... but the fire's gone out of me now. I wanta quiet life."
In his eyes she read a passionate impatience and weariness.
"If you were willing that I should be the Schoolmaster, the other peoplewould be likely to have me, perhaps," he continued. "They would not knowwhat you know, and I can play the part of the broken-down fool who haslost every penny he had on the fields."
"It does not rest with me, naming the Schoolmaster, of course," shesaid, a little troubled. "But if the others are willing to have you Ishall be glad."
She had a native grace that took for granted in others her own sincerityand purity of motive.
"I am grateful, Mrs. Cameron," he said.
She smiled to think that he knew her name.
"You are--"
"Daniel Farrel," he said.
When they went out of doors Lass was standing deserted, with her noseover the water-butt. There was no sight or sound of Davey or Deirdre.Her father called; and presently she came racing round the corner of thehouse, hair flying, and eyes bright with mischief and laughter.
Davey followed at a breakneck pace. His collar was twisted and a ja
ggedthree-cornered tear showed in his grey trousers. The girl flew to herfather. Davey came to a standstill sheepishly, a few yards from hismother.
"What have you been doing, Deirdre?" Farrel asked.
"Showing him the ring-tail 'possum's nest in the tree at the back of thecow-yard," she said eagerly. "He couldn't climb because his trouserswere too tight, and I raced him up the hill."
"She's a wild thing--has never had anybody but me to look after her," hesaid to Mrs. Cameron, the black head under his hand.
"Her mother's dead?" Mrs. Cameron asked gently.
"Yes," he said.
Davey and Mrs. Cameron drove away. Davey craned his neck, looking backalong the road several times, and the last time he looked Deirdre wasstanding alone, an elfish figure outlined against the sunset.
"She _can_ run, mother!" he cried, his eyes alight. "She can run andclimb quicker than anybody I ever saw. P'raps--I believe she's aPelling, mother! She's got the bright eyes and black hair."
"Maybe"--Mary Cameron said, smiling at his eagerness and belief in theold story, "maybe there's fairy blood in her veins."