Queensland Cousins

by Eleanor Luisa Haverfield

  CHAPTER IX.

  A RIDERLESS HORSE.

  It was a delightfully merry evening. Bob had to re-do hispunishment and sing several songs, and then he struck.

  "I am quite sure Miss Chase sings," he declared. "It's her turnnow. Witches ought to be punished even more severely thantraitors."

  She made no demur, but sat down to the piano and began to sing. Butin the middle of her song such a noise began over her head that shedropped her hands laughingly, and exclaimed,--

  "How can I sing with that wretched electric bell going on all thetime?"

  "Tr-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r," sounded shrilly through the room,louder and louder.

  "Electric bell?" exclaimed the children with blank faces.

  "Oh, you dear new chum," said Mr. Orban, bursting into peals oflaughter, accompanied by Bob, "that isn't an electric bell; it's acicada."

  "A cicada!" repeated Miss Chase.

  "Yes; a kind of grasshopper, or cricket, you know," Mrs. Orbanexplained, looking much amused. "He is up there in the roof. I amafraid you will have to stop, for as long as you go on so willhe."

  "How very ill-mannered of him," said Miss Chase.

  "Let's play something instead," said Peter, who was getting sleepy,but would not own it.

  He was not really fond of music--Bob's comic songs excepted.

  The game was begun, and going merrily, when suddenly there rose onthe night air such an appalling howl that Miss Chase started andturned pale. To her astonishment, when she looked round the table,she found that no one but herself was at all disturbed by thesound.

  "You to play, I believe, Miss Chase," said Bob, who sat oppositeher.

  She put down her card, and at that moment the agonized cry cameagain, apparently from immediately under the veranda. Dorothygripped her hands tightly together, and again looked round on theunmoved faces. Again the cry resounded.

  "Surely," she said, looking appealingly at Bob, "there is somethingor some one in dreadful pain outside."

  Bob laughed.

  "I thought you seemed upset, but I didn't like to mention it," hesaid. "That's nothing but a dingo howling. There'll be a whole packof them at it presently, I dare say. I'll go out and disperse themas soon as the game is over."

  "What is a dingo?" inquired Miss Chase.

  "Don't you know that, Aunt Dorothy?" asked Peter in tones ofcontemptuous astonishment. "Well, it's the commonest thing here."

  "Peter," said Bob gravely, "do you know what a top hat and a frockcoat are like?"

  Peter shook his head in bewilderment.

  "Don't you?" said Bob, mimicking the small boy's tone. "Well,they're the commonest things in England. I am surprised at yourignorance!"

  Peter reddened.

  "But I've never seen them," he said.

  "Nor has Miss Chase ever seen a dingo," said Bob calmly.--"It isthe wild dog of the Bush, Miss Chase. They come prowling round thehouse at night, looking for food."

  The howling grew worse and worse. Bob quietly sauntered out on tothe veranda. There were a few shots, and the noise changed to yelpsas the dingoes scurried in terror down the hill.

  "Don't be worried if you hear them in the distance most of thenight," said Mrs. Orban. "I am afraid it will take you some time toget used to our noisy hours of darkness."

  When Miss Chase tried to settle down to sleep she remembered thesewords, and it seemed superfluous to her that she should have beenwished "good-night" by every one. A good night was impossible. Thedingoes howled persistently in the woods below, and quite closethere was the incessant "croak-croak-croak-croak" of tree-frogs,together with many other inexplicable and weird noises.

  Nesta slept placidly through it all; but not till there came a lulljust an hour or so before dawn did the weary stranger drop intooblivion.

  It did not seem to her she had been asleep five minutes, and therewas only the faintest glimmer of light in her room, when she wasawakened by something new. Just under her window there was astrident laugh.

  "Ha-ha-ha!" Then another, "Ha-ha-ha!"

  Miss Chase listened in bewilderment.

  "What extraordinary people," she thought, glancing enviously at theundisturbed Nesta. "Who on earth can be out at this time?"

  She supposed that it must be some of the plantation hands prowlingabout outside; but she wondered at her brother-in-law allowing themto behave in such a tiresome way when people were wanting to sleep.

  "Ha-ha! ha-ha!" jeered the voice outside, as if mocking at herannoyance. Then followed a chorus of chuckles, and Miss Chase satup in bed, and strained her ears to catch the joke, if possible.But no words reached her. There was a little pause as if some onemight be speaking, and then another burst of delighted chuckles, sovery funny that they were quite infectious, and Miss Chase smiledin spite of herself.

  "Ha-ha! ha-ha! ha-ha-ha-ha!" laughed the voices. Now certainlythere were more than one.

  "This is too ridiculous," thought Miss Chase, beginning to chucklesoftly to herself. "What can they be saying or doing out there?"

  At last the hilarity became so boisterous that her curiosity gotthe better of her, and slipping on a wrapper she opened the windowand crept out on to the veranda.

  To her surprise there was no one to be seen--not a soul was abouteither on the veranda or below, though she leant right over, andstrained her eyes to catch a glimpse of these queer people.

  It was comparatively deliciously cool outside, the grayness beforedawn a pleasant contrast to the tropical glare that was positivelyhurtful to the new-comer's eyes. Going to the corner of theveranda, she gazed away and away towards the now deep gray sea,lying like a bath of mist beyond the dense black of the trees inthe valley.

  "What a queer, unreal world it seems," she was thinking, "and yetto little Peter this is all reality, and England nothing but adream."

  "Ha-ha!" said a voice from immediately below, so loudly as to soundalmost insulting.

  Miss Chase jumped, looked about in astonishment--and saw no one.

  "Ha-ha! ha-ha-ha!" repeated the mocker.

  "I wonder if he sees me, and is laughing at me now?" thought thegirl.

  She gave a little shiver. It was not a very pleasant sensation tofeel herself spied upon by an unseen watcher, and she began to beata hasty retreat towards her own window again.

  "Ha-ha!" laughed the unseen one, with such a note of triumph thatnow she was certain the humour was at her expense. It annoyed her,and at the same time it rather frightened her. Was it possibly amadman?--for assuredly the chuckles became madder and madder asthey increased. Besides which, what sane person would be out of bedand giggling at such an hour? The thought of a lunatic or two atlarge lurking round the house was discomforting indeed. In England,with fast-barred doors and windows that are supposed to beunassailable, it would not be pleasant; but here--where what mightbe called the "front door" was nothing but the flimsiest of Frenchwindows, the windows themselves utterly powerless to keep any oneout--the English girl found this new suspicion particularlydisagreeable. She wondered whether she ought not to go and rouseMr. Orban. Perhaps he ought to be warned, she reflected, so as tobe ready in case these maniacs burst into the house, intent on themischief they were so evidently gloating over in anticipation.

  "I wish I knew what to do," she thought in great agitation.

  "Ha-ha! ha-ha-ha-ha!" responded the laughers with maniacal glee.

  "Why, Aunt Dorothy," exclaimed Nesta, as Miss Chase entered theroom in a hurry, "what have you been doing?"

  Nesta was sitting up in bed. She had evidently awakened, anddiscovering her aunt's absence, was wondering about it. Itcomforted Miss Chase to have some one to speak to; but, determinednot to frighten the child, she said as steadily as she could,--

  "I was only trying to find out what those people are laughing atout there. It seems such a strange time to be so amused. I supposethey must be some of the coolies going to work."

  "People!" repeated Nesta blankly.

  "Yes--listen!" said Miss Chase; and as another burs
t of thick-tonedmirth reached them, "There--don't you hear that?"

  Nesta rolled down into her pillow, and fairly shouted into it.

  "What is the matter with the child?" asked Miss Chase inbewilderment.

  "People!" gasped Nesta, as soon as she had any voice to speak with."Those aren't people; they're birds!"

  "Birds!" said Miss Chase. "Impossible. You must be asleep still, oryou didn't hear what I said."

  "Yes, I did," Nesta replied. "You mean those funny fat chuckles andha-ha's? Well, those are birds--the laughing jackasses. I can showthem to you in a minute."

  Out they both went on to the veranda, and in the fast-increasinglight Nesta pointed out some trees below, on which sat groups ofbrightly-hued birds, not unlike kingfishers in appearance, but verymuch larger. They had without doubt the funniest faces Miss Chasehad ever seen. Not only did they laugh aloud--they positivelygrinned, so comic was the expression of their wide beaks. Shelaughed herself till the tears ran down her cheeks, and Nesta puther head down on the veranda railing and wept with laughter too.

  The sun was up now, there being practically no twilight eitherbefore sunrise or after sunset in North Queensland. The glory ofthe scene sobered Miss Chase, and she stood watching.

  The glee of the birds was explained. They sat and laughed as theywatched for their prey, then pounced down upon the unwary locustsor lizards they had marked, and returning to the tree, satchuckling triumphantly over the capture before eating.

  "It is really rather horrid of them, isn't it?" said Miss Chase.

  But Nesta did not sympathize.

  "Nobody minds," she said, "especially about locusts beingeaten--nasty things. When there is a plague of them it means ruinto father; they destroy every blade of sugar-cane."

  Over the tree-tops in the valley below appeared a cloud ofshimmering whiteness, moving swiftly round the base of the hill.

  "What is that?" asked Miss Chase curiously.

  "White cockatoos," said Nesta, with a yawn; "they're changing theirfeeding-ground--white cockatoos with bright yellow crests. But, Isay, don't you think you had better go back to bed? You're lookingawfully tired."

  "Is that one for me and two for yourself?" said Miss Chase lightly."Personally, I would rather dress and go for a walk in the wooddown there."

  "I don't think you had better," Nesta said, shaking her headdoubtfully. "We aren't allowed to go there alone. It is awfullyeasy to get lost; and then there are snakes and things. You mightget into a mangrove swamp too--or you might meet black-fellows."

  "Well, really," laughed Miss Chase, leading the way back to bed,"you don't give a very flattering description. Why, at home I'moften up at sunrise, out all by myself in the woods. You don't evenmeet poachers, for they take good care not to be seen."

  "I think England must be splendid," sighed Nesta.

  "I wonder if you would really think so," Miss Chase responded. "Mr.Cochrane gave you a very dismal picture of it, remember."

  "Oh, but Bob has never been there. Besides, he was onlyexaggerating, because he doesn't want us to go, you know."

  Miss Chase gave such a graphic account at breakfast of her earlymorning experiences that every one at the table shouted withlaughter. The jackasses were alluded to ever after as AuntDorothy's lunatics.

  "To talk of serious things," said Mr. Orban, half way through themeal, "we shall have to be fearfully careful with the water. Thesecond tank is almost empty, and I doubt its lasting till the rainscome."

  "That's bad," said Bob.

  "Things are bad," said Mr. Orban. "I hope the rains will hurry up,or we shall have the cane catching fire. We should lose every bitof the crop if that happened."

  "Dear me," said Miss Chase, "you seem to have fearful difficultiesto contend with. Nesta was talking about locusts only thismorning."

  "Locusts will destroy the young crop," said Mr. Orban. "If itescapes them, fire may destroy the old. Too much rain and toolittle do equal damage. We've had a good many unprosperous years,with one thing and another."

  "It looks grand burning," said Eustace.

  "A sheet of flame, and your heart in the middle of it, never seemsvery grand to the man whose year's work and hope is being burntunder his very nose," said Mr. Orban.

  The children had seldom seen their father look as worried as he didthen. It seemed to Eustace there was trouble in the air.

  "Can't you put out a fire in the cane once it begins?" asked MissChase with interest.

  "No," was the answer; "you can only try to stop it spreading bycutting as wide a path as possible between the burning part and thesound. It takes all hands to do it, though, and some of the cooliescan't be got to work for love or money. It is a nasty business whenit happens."

  Bob started off home early; not quite so early as he had meant to,because when his horse was brought round ready saddled, he found ithad lamed itself somehow in the stable. He therefore borrowed ahorse from Mr. Orban, and left his own to rest for a day or two.

  Generally when Bob took his departure after a particularly jollytime there was a good deal of depression about. But to-day, withthe arrival of Aunt Dorothy's boxes up the hill, low spiritsdisappeared as if by magic.

  The contents of those boxes kept every one occupied the whole day.What with the excitement and curiosity over the many presents--theclothes, useful things, and games stowed quaintly into thepacking-cases together; what with every one's amusement over MissChase's frequent astonishment at the commonest things of theireveryday life, time slipped cheerily away towards evening. Thechildren never remembered such happiness in their quiet existencebefore, and Miss Chase felt half inclined to weep when she saw whatsimple things were joys to them.

  "Herbert and Brenda would laugh at them if they saw them," shethought gravely.

  Brenda's photograph was very much admired. She was a beautiful girlindeed, with a proudly-carried head, and just the suspicion of ascornful curve to her lips.

  Nesta suppressed a sigh as she looked at her cousin's clothes, forNesta loved pretty things. She let out little bursts of admirationthat amused her aunt considerably.

  "She looks a regular angel," Nesta said. "I never saw any one solovely. Isn't she simply perfect, Aunt Dorothy?"

  "She is a very nice girl," was all Miss Chase could be brought toadmit.

  "And she goes to school," murmured Nesta, gazing lingeringly at thelucky girl, who seemed to have everything heart could desire. "Ijust want to see her more than everything in the world."

  "Perhaps you will some day," said Miss Chase, wondering silentlyhow much of the compliment Brenda would return could she see aphotograph of this rough-headed, ill-dressed little cousin of hers;for Brenda was particular--at least over her friends at school.

  Eustace gazed silently at the portrait of Herbert. He had no wordto say about the immaculately-dressed English boy, photographed inhis best suit, his highest collar, and pet tie. At least he made nopublic comment; but when Nesta bothered him later for an opinion,he said shortly,--

  "He looks an ass."

  "Oh, he doesn't," Nesta said warmly, ready to admire everythingEnglish.

  "I think so," Eustace said imperturbably.

  "Then you're a silly, jealous boy," said Nesta in fierychampionship.

  "Who wants to have clothes like Brenda?" was the instant retort,"and go to school like Brenda, and be just like Brenda? But I'mcertain I don't want to look like Herbert anyway. He looks astuck-up ass."

  "He--he looks like a gentleman," spluttered Nesta.

  "Oh, shut up," said Eustace. "Can't a gentleman look an ass? Who isthat riding up the hill?"

  His quick ears had caught the sound of hoofs, and glad of a pretextto change the subject he went and leant over the balcony.

  Nesta was at his side with a pounce.

  "Hulloa!" he shouted a few seconds later; "here is somethingqueer."

  "What is it, Eustace?" called his mother from within; and soonevery one was on the veranda, staring eagerly down the hill.

  Coming up at a leisu
rely trot was a riderless horse--saddled,bridled, but alone.

  The watchful party waited in breathless astonishment till it wasclose to the house. Then Eustace said sharply,--

  "Mother, it's the horse Bob went away on this morning! There's beensome accident."