CHAPTER NINETEEN.
NIC SHOWS HIS TEETH.
Nic did not say anything about his adventure with Leather, and wasperfectly silent about his fright with Bungarolo, who showed his teethnext time they met, pointed to the lad's gun, and shook his head, thefact being that he was as much startled as Nic.
During the days which followed the boy had long rides with his father tosee cattle on distant ranges, to visit flocks grazing nearer home, andgradually grew acquainted with the pleasant, patriarchal life the doctorlived.
The weather was glorious, for there had been rain in abundance a monthearlier, and the consequence was shown in the rich pasture and abundanceof flowers flourishing in the bright sunshine. The air, too, wasdeliciously invigorating, and Nic never knew that he was tired, evenwhen he had been a whole day in the saddle, until suddenly about bedtimehe discovered that he could not keep his eyes open. Then he would sleepsoundly till the piping crows and the poultry awoke him at daybreak foranother busy, happy day.
Nic determined that he would have no mare to do with Leather, who wentstolidly about his work. He was a convict, and the boy felt that theman was a sullen, ill-tempered fellow, who, instead of trying to make upfor the past, now that the opportunity had been given him to amend andbegin a new life, evidently looked upon himself as ill-used, and avoidedeverybody.
There were a certain number of slips printed from copperplate and pastedupon cardboard at Dr Dunham's, all consisting of good, sterling adviceto the young, which the boys had had to copy over and over again, so asto get in the habit of writing a good, clear, round hand, with fineupstrokes and good, firm downstrokes; and one of them which Nic had wellin mind was, "Judge not rashly." But Nic did judge rashly all the same.
One day he took his gun with the intention of shooting a specimen of thelovely Blue Mountain parrot or lory, and this he meant to skin andpreserve. He had seen the birds in flocks when out without his gun, andstood entranced at the beauty of the little creatures, with theirbreasts gleaming with scarlet, crimson, orange, and purple mingled inthe most wonderful way, while their heads were of a peachy blue, andwings and backs, right to the end of their long tails, of a lovelygreen.
He had taken some of the smallest shot, so as not to damage the plumage;and after a warning from Mrs Braydon to be careful, he was crossing theenclosure beyond the garden toward a field where he could hear Brookes'svoice raised in a loud, bullying tone.
Directly after he came upon old Samson, who was wheeling manure in abarrow made of half a barrel cut lengthwise, and furnished with a coupleof good sound poles, nailed on so that two ends formed the widely aparthandles the other two being fitted with iron, which drew them togetherand secured the wheel, which was a round cut with a saw from a treetrunk, bound with iron hooping, and looking like a single Gloucestercheese.
"Heavy," said the old man, stopping to rest.
"What's that for?" asked Nic, who liked the old, keen, but thoroughlyamiable factotum.
"Garden, sir. Good, strong, fat stuff as'll grow anything. I'm makinga cowcumber bed."
"Not much of a barrow, Sam," said Nic.
"Well, it ain't, Master Nic, and I'd ha' made another afore now, on'y Ican't get a wheel. The master's going to get me one first chance, forthe wheel bothers me. I could make the box, but wheels want practice.I did try to make one, and I forged a pretty good tire down yonder butthe wood part! My word, it was a rickety, wobbly one, and broke downsecond day. Didn't teach you to make barrow wheels at school, Isuppose?"
"No," said Nic, laughing. "Wheel-making's an accomplishment."
"Then they ought to ha' taught you. Been strange and useful to you as asquatter, sir. Didn't teach you to shoe horses nayther, I'll be bound."
"No, nor blacksmithing either."
"Then it's a shame, sir, for I know the master paid a lot o' money foryou to be well taught. I wish they'd teached you to make wheels, foryou see these here soon warps in the hot sun and cracks. But there,"cried the old man, grinning, "there's hard, sound trees enough to cutdown and saw into thousands and thousands of barrow wheels; and as tohorseshoeing, I can teach you that, my lad. I shoe all ours, and themaster likes my shoes better than those he makes."
"Does father make horseshoes?"
"Does he make horseshoes?" cried Sam. "Why, I should think he does, andtrims a hoof, and nails splendid. He beats me hollow. There he goes--at it again," muttered the old man, as Brookes's voice rose. "I wishhe'd leave the poor chap alone."
"Is he bullying Leather again?"
"Ay, my lad; and he'd like to tan Leather too, on'y he daren't do that.I 'most wish the poor chap'd give him one for his not, and then p'r'apshe'd be quiet with his tongue. Brooky's never satisfied. He's likelots of 'em: he thinks, because a chap's a 'signed servant, he's to bebullied and kicked. They forgets as a convict is a man arter all."
"Of course," said Nic, frowning.
"The free men settlers is jealous of the government chaps, and hates'em. I don't doubt Leather's a reg'lar crab, but set him to do a joband he does it. I never know'd him skulk or flinch anything. Themaster'll ketch old Brooky at it some day, and then there'll be a row.I do wonder, though, as Leatherhead don't give him one between theeyes."
"Perhaps he will some day, if Brookes goes too far."
"Nay, nay, my lad, he won't do that. That wouldn't do. 'Signedservant's got to take what he gets, and be thankful. Why, do you knowwhat'd happen if Leather turned on Brooky?"
"Brooky would complain to the master, and Leather would be fetched overto Mr Dillon's--magistrate, you know. He'd have the cat, and a warningthat if he didn't behave he'd go back to the chain gang, and it would bea bad mark agin him."
"Then it would be very unfair," said Nic sharply.
"Yes, sir, it would; but the world don't allus play quite fair, and, yousee, government has to be very strict with 'signed servants, for some on'em's been shocking bad uns, and if they weren't kep' down with whatthey calls a hiron han', honest people wouldn't come to live out here.'Bliged to be very strict; if they weren't, the convicts might get thebetter of us all. Well, this ain't making cowcumber beds, is it? Goingshooting?"
"Yes; I want to get some specimens to stuff."
"That's right, sir. You do? There's some very pretty birds about theseparts; but if I was you, my lad, I'd get one o' the blackfellows to gowith you. He'd carry what you shot--when you happened to hit anything."
"All right. You needn't grin, Sam. I can hold the gun straightsometimes."
"'Course you can, my lad. Why not? You'll shoot and ride and doeverything soon, and I'll teach you all I know 'bout shoeing and forgingand gardening. But as I was a-saying, you get Bungarolo or Rigar orDamper. No, I can't spare Damper 'cause of the cows, and Rigar's handywith the bullocks. You have Bung; he'll take you to places where thebirds are. These blacks know all that sort o' thing; and as to gettingbushed, you'll never get bushed so long as he's with you."
"What's bushed?"
"What's bushed, sir? My word, they did take your poor father in overyour education. Don't know what being bushed is? Why, being lost, mylad. There, you're a-romancing me, Master Nic. You're a-making me areg'lar old ruck-a-tongue. I've got to do my work, and my work to-day'scowcumbers."
Samson lifted the handles of his rough barrow, and went off withoutlooking back, while Nic made off with his gun on his shoulder, bearing alittle to his left, so as to pass round a shed, beyond which Brookes'svoice could be heard.
As Nic reached the fence he saw that about fifty sheep were shut behindhurdles, and Leather was catching them by the wool, turning them ontheir sides, and then carrying them to where Brookes knelt, with a brushand a tub and a sheep before him, dividing the wool and applying sometarry mixture to sore places caused by the attacks of virulent flies--acruel-looking process, but one which saved the poor animals' lives.
Brookes's back was towards Nic, and Leather's eyes on his work, overwhich he bent frowning, and using his great strength to master
thestruggling animals, and carry them to his companion, who went on loudly,as Leather slaved away, dripping with perspiration, in the hot sun.
"Government's mad, that's what government is, to let loose such a set o'scum to mix with honest men. I dunno what things is coming to. If Ihad my way, I'd soon have yer again in the chain gang, and scratch yerback every day with the warder's cat--that's what I'd do with you.There,"--to the sheep--"off you go. Now, then, how much longer am I towait for that next sheep? Of all the lazy, idle, skulking hands thatever came about a place you're the worst. Now, then, don't kill thepoor beast, and don't keep me waiting all day for the next."
The sheep had made a sudden bound and nearly escaped; but Leather,bending low the while, flung his arm round it, hugged it to his breast,and bore it to Brookes.
"Yah! you clumsy, lazy brute; you're not fit to handle a sheep. Don'tkill it, thick-head. Hang yer, you're not worth your salt."
This was too much for Nic.
"Then why don't you go and fetch the sheep, and let him have a turn withthe tar?" roared the boy, with his face scarlet.
"What?" cried Brookes, swinging himself round, and dropping the brush.
"Say `sir' when you speak to me," cried Nic. "You heard what I said.You're always bullying and insulting people. It's abominable. Theman's working like a slave, and you're kneeling there and doing hardlyanything."
"I'm blest!" panted out Brookes, with rings of white round the irises ofhis eyes.
Leather was panting too. His face looked corrugated, and he stood therebent down, frowning hard at the ground.
"It's shameful!" cried Nic. "I'm sure my father does not know you speakto your fellow-servants like that."
"My what?" roared Brookes furiously. "Do you know he's only a convict?"
"Yes, I do. But what's that got to do with it, sir? As long as heworks and does his duty to my father, he's to be properly treated.You're always bullying him. I've heard you ever since I've been home."
"Here! Where's your father?" cried Brookes, rising to his feet, andadvancing toward the fence with a threatening look, while Leather bentlower.
"Gone on one of his rounds," said Nic, springing over the fence, andfacing him. "I wish he were here."
"And so do I," roared Brookes. "Look here, young gentleman; don't youthink because you've come home that you're to lord it over me. I'llhave you to know that you've got to beg my pardon, insulting me beforethat lazy, lying, idle convict, you miserable young whippersnapper!"
"What!" said Nic, beside himself now with passion. "How dare you! Howdare you speak to me like that! Insult you--you common, foul-mouthedbully. Go on with your work, sir. I'm your master's son, and if I'd ahorsewhip here instead of this gun, I'd lay it across your back."
Brookes stooped, picked up the brush viciously, and rolled up hissleeves.
"Oh," he cried; "that's it, is it? Horsewhip me, eh? We'll soon seeabout that. Here, you convict."
"Do you want me to strike you?" cried Nic.
"Yes; you'd better," growled the man, dropping on his knees. "We'llsoon see about that. Here, you, bring me another sheep."
"No. Stop!" cried Nic, turning to Leather, who was bringing on thesheep; "let him fetch them for himself. While my father's away I'mmaster here. Go away. You shall not be bullied like that, whatever youhave done. Go and find some other work amongst the sheep."
Leather looked at him strangely.
"You heard what I said," cried Nic.
"Yes, sir," said the man, in a husky voice.
"Then go at once. Nic was treating you worse than he would dare totreat a dog."
Brookes banged down the brush and rose to go.
"You stop," cried Nic. "My father said those sheep must be dressedto-day, and you know it. Finish them, every one."
Brookes dropped upon his knees again.
"I beg your pardon, sir," said Leather quietly. "It is very hard workfor one man. I'm used to this sort of thing. Hadn't I better stay?"
"No," said Nic firmly. "You heard my orders. Go." He pointed acrossthe enclosure, and Leather went without a word.
"Now," said Nic, "finish those sheep."
Brookes muttered low threat after threat of what he would do, but hewent on dressing the sheep; and Nic turned, walked back to the house,altered his mind, and went right away toward the bush, but his nerveswere all of a quiver, as he thought over the meeting to come with hisfather, and he did not fire his gun that day.
First in the Field: A Story of New South Wales Page 19
