CHAPTER II. PETS AND PLAYTHINGS
After her father, Norah's chief companions were her pets.
These were a numerous and varied band, and required no small amount ofattention. Bobs, of course, came first--no other animal could possiblyapproach him in favour. But after Bobs came a long procession, beginningwith Tait, the collie, and ending with the last brood of fluffyOrpington chicks, or perhaps the newest thing in disabled birds, pickedup, fluttering and helpless, in the yard or orchard. There was room inNorah's heart for them all.
Tait was a beauty--a rough-haired collie, with a splendid head, and big,faithful brown eyes, that spoke more eloquently than many persons'tongues. He was, like most of the breed, ready to be friends with anyone; but his little mistress was dearest of all, and he worshipped herwith abject devotion. Norah never went anywhere without him; Tait saw tothat. He seemed always on the watch for her coming, and she was nevermore than a few yards from the house before the big dog was silentlybrushing the grass by her side. His greatest joy was to follow her onlong rides into the bush, putting up an occasional hare and scurryingafter it in the futile way of collies, barking at the swallows overhead,and keeping pace with Bobs' long, easy canter.
Puck used to come on these excursions too. He was the only being forwhom it was suspected that Tait felt a mild dislike--an impudent Irishterrier, full of fun and mischief, yet with a somewhat unfriendly andsuspicious temperament that made him, perhaps, a better guardian forNorah than the benevolently disposed Tait. Puck had a nasty, inquiringmind--an unpleasant way of sniffing round the legs of tramps thatgenerally induced those gentry to find the top rail of a fence a morecalm and more desirable spot than the level of the ground. Indianhawkers feared him and hated him in equal measure. He could bite, andoccasionally did bite, his victims being always selected with judgmentand discretion, generally vagrants emboldened to insolence by seeing nomen about the kitchen when all hands were out mustering or busy on therun. When Puck bit, it was with no uncertain tooth. He was suspected ofa desire to taste the blood of every one who went near Norah, though hiscannibalistic propensities were curbed by stern discipline.
Only once had he had anything like a free hand--or a free tooth.
Norah was out riding, a good way from the homestead, when a particularlyunpleasant-looking fellow accosted her, and asked for money. Norahstared.
"I haven't got any," she said. "Anyhow, father doesn't let us give awaymoney to travellers--only tucker."
"Oh, doesn't he?" the fellow said unpleasantly. "Well, I want money, notgrub." He laid a compelling hand on Bobs' bridle as Norah tried to passhim. "Come," he said--"that bracelet'll do!"
It was a pretty little gold watch set in a leather bangle--father'sbirthday present, only a few weeks old. Norah simply laughed--shescarcely comprehended so amazing a thing as that this man should reallyintend to rob her.
"Get out of my way," she said--"you can't have that!"
"Can't I!" He caught her wrist. "Give it quietly now, or I'll--"
The sentence was not completed. A yellow streak hurled itself though theair, as Puck, who had been investigating a tussock for lizards, awoke tothe situation. Something like a vice gripped the swagman by the leg, andhe dropped Norah's wrist and bridle and roared like any bull. The"something" hung on fiercely, silently, and the victim hopped and ravedand begged for mercy.
Norah had ridden a little way on. She called softly to Puck.
"Here, boy!"
Puck did not relinquish his grip. He looked pleadingly at his littlemistress across the swagman's trouser-leg. Norah struck her saddlesharply with her whip.
"Here, sir!--drop it!"
Puck dropped it reluctantly, and came across to Bobs, his head hanging.The swagman sat down on the ground and nursed his leg.
"That served you right," Norah said, with judicial severity. "You hadn'tany business to grab my watch. Now, if you'll go up to the house they'llgive you some tucker and a rag for your leg!"
She rode off, whistling to Puck. The swagman gaped and muttered variousremarks. He did not call at the house.
Norah was supposed to manage the fowls, but her management was almostentirely ornamental, and it is to be feared that the poultry yard wouldhave fared but poorly had it depended upon her alone. All the fowls werehers. She said so, and no one contradicted her. Still, whenever one waswanted for the table, it was ruthlessly slain. And it was black Billywho fed them night and morning, and Mrs. Brown who gathered the eggs,and saw that the houses were safely shut against the foxes everyevening. Norah's chief part in the management lay in looking after thesetting hens. At first she firmly checked the broody instincts byshutting them callously under boxes despite pecks and loud protests.Later, when their mood refused to change, she loved to prepare them softnests in boxes, and to imprison them there until they took kindly totheir seclusion. Then it was hard work to wait three weeks until thefirst fluffy heads peeped out from the angry mother's wing, after whichNorah was a blissfully adoring caretaker until the downy balls began toget ragged, as the first wing and tail feathers showed. Then the chicksbecame uninteresting, and were handed over to Black Billy.
Besides her own pets there were Jim's.
"Mind, they're in your care," Jim had said sternly, on the eveningbefore his departure for school. They were making a tour of theplace--Jim outwardly very cheerful and unconcerned; Norah plunged inwoe. She did not attempt to conceal it. She had taken Jim's arm, and itwas sufficient proof of his state of mind that he did not shake it off.Indeed, the indications were that he was glad of the loving little handtucked into the bend of his arm.
"Yes, Jim; I'll look after them."
"I don't want you to bother feeding them yourself," Jim saidmagnanimously; "that 'ud be rather too much of a contract for a kid,wouldn't it? Only keep an eye on 'em, and round up Billy if he doesn'tdo his work. He's a terror if he shirks, and unless you watch him like acat he'll never change the water in the tins every morning. Lots oftimes I've had to do it myself!"
"I'd do it myself sooner'n let them go without, Jim, dear," said thesmall voice, with a suspicion of a choke.
"Don't you do it," said Jim; "slang Billy. What's he here for, I'd liketo know! I only want you to go round 'em every day, and see that they'reall right."
So daily Norah used to make her pilgrimage round Jim's pets. There werethe guinea pigs--a rapidly increasing band, in an enclosure speciallybuilt for them by Jim--a light frame, netted carefully everywhere, andso constructed that it could be moved from place to place, giving them afresh grass run continually. Then there were two young wallabies and alittle brush kangaroo, which lived in a little paddock all their own,and were as tame as kittens. Norah loved this trio especially, andalways had a game with them on her daily visit. There was a shygentleman which Norah called a turloise, because she never couldremember if he were a turtle or a tortoise. He lived in a smallenclosure, with a tiny water hole, and his disposition was extremelyretiring. In private Norah did not feel drawn to this member of hercharge, but she paid him double attention, from an inward feeling ofguilt, and because Jim set a high value upon him.
"He's such a wise old chap," Jim would say; "nobody knows what he'sthinking of!"
In her heart of hearts Norah did not believe that mattered very much.
But when the stables had been visited and Bobs and Sirdar (Jim'sneglected pony) interviewed; when Tait and Puck had had their breakfastbones; when wallabies and kangaroo had been inspected (with a criticaleye to their water tins), and the turtle had impassively received apraiseworthy attempt to draw him out; when the chicks had all been fed,and the guinea pigs (unlike the leopard) had changed their spot for theday--there still remained the birds.
The birds were a colony in themselves. There was a big aviary, largeenough for little trees and big shrubs to grow in, where a happy familylived whose members included several kinds of honey-eaters, Queenslandfinches, blackbirds and a dozen other tiny shy things which flittedquickly from bush to bush all day. They knew Norah and, when
she enteredtheir home, would flutter down and perch on her head and shoulders, andlook inquisitively for the flowers she always brought them. SometimesNorah would wear some artificial flowers, by way of a joke. It was funnyto see the little honey-eaters thrusting in their long beaks again andagain in search of the sweet drops they had learned to expect inflowers, and funnier still to watch the air of disgust with which theywould give up the attempt.
There were doves everywhere--not in cages, for they never tried toescape. Their soft "coo" murmured drowsily all around. There werepigeons, too, in a most elaborate pigeon cote--another effort of Jim'scarpentering skill. These were as tame as the smaller birds, and onNorah's appearance would swoop down upon her in a cloud. They had doneso once when she was mounted on Bobs, to the pony's very great alarm anddisgust. He took to his heels promptly. "I don't think he stopped fortwo miles!" Norah said. Since then, however, Bobs had grown used to thepigeons fluttering and circling round him. It was a pretty sight towatch them all together, child and pony half hidden beneath their loadof birds.
The canaries had a cage to themselves--a very smart one, with everydevice for making canary life endurable in captivity. Certainly Norah'sbirds seemed happy enough, and the sweet songs of the canaries weredelightful. I think they were Norah's favourites amongst her featheredflock.
Finally there were two talkative members--Fudge the parrot, and oldCaesar, a very fine white cockatoo. Fudge had been caught young, and hiseducation had been of a liberal order. An apt pupil, he had picked upvarious items of knowledge, and had blended them into a whole that wasscarcely harmonious. Bits of slang learned from Jim and the stockmenwere mingled with fragments of hymns warbled by Mrs. Brown and sharpcurt orders delivered to dogs. A French swag-man, who had hurt his footand been obliged to camp for a few days at the homestead, supplied Fudgewith several Parisian remarks that were very effective. Every member ofthe household had tried to teach him to whistle some special tune.Unfortunately, the lessons had been delivered at the same time, and theresult was the most amazing jumble of melody, which Fudge delivered withan air of deepest satisfaction. As Jim said, "You never know if he'swhistling 'God Save the King,' 'Pop Goes the Weasel,' or 'The Wearin' o'the Green,' but it doesn't make any difference to Fudge's enjoyment!"
Caesar was a giant among cockatoos, and had a full sense of his ownimportance.
He had been shot when very young, some stray pellets having found theirway into his wing. Norah had found him fluttering helplessly along theground, and had picked him up, sustaining a severe peck in doing so. Itwas, however, the first and last peck he ever gave Norah. From thatmoment he seemed to recognize her as a friend, and to adopt her as anintimate--marks of esteem he accorded to very few others. Norah hadhanded him to Jim on arriving at the house, a change which the birdresented by a savage attack on Jim's thumb. Jim was no hero--at the ageof eleven, he dropped the cockatoo like a hot coal. "Great Caesar!" heexclaimed, sucking his thumb, and Caesar he was christened in thatmoment.
After his recovery, which was a long and tedious process, Caesar showedno inclination to leave the homestead. He used to strut about the backyard, and frequent the kitchen door, very much after the fashion of ahouse-dog. He was, indeed, as valuable as a watch-dog, for theappearance of any stranger was the signal for a volley of shrieks andchatter, sufficient to alarm any household. However, Caesar's liberty hadto be restricted, for he became somewhat of a menace to all he did notchoose to care for, and his attacks on the ankles were no joking matter.
To the dogs he was a constant terror. He hated all alike, and would "gofor" big Tait as readily as for cheerful little Puck, and not a dog onthe place would face him. So at last a stand and a chain were bought forCaesar, and on his perch he lived in solitary splendour, while hisenemies took good care to keep beyond his reach. Norah he always loved,and those whom he had managed to bite--their number was large--used toexperience thrills on seeing the little girl hold him close to her facewhile he rubbed his beak up and down her cheek. He tolerated blackBilly, who fed him, and was respectful to Mr. Linton; but he worshippedMrs. Brown, the cook, and her appearance at the kitchen door, which hecould see from his stand, caused an instant outbreak of cheers andchatter, varied by touching appeals to "scratch Cocky." His chief foewas Mrs. Brown's big yellow cat, who not only dared to share the adoredone's affections, but was openly aggressive at times, and loved to stealthe cockatoo's food.
Caesar, on his perch, apparently wrapped in dreamless slumber, would inreality be watching the stealthy movements of Tim, the cat, who wouldcome scouting through the grass towards the tin of food. Just out ofreach, Tim would lie down and feign sleep as deep as Caesar's, thoughevery muscle in his body was tense with readiness for the sudden spring.So they would remain, perhaps many minutes. Tim's patience never gaveout. Sometimes Caesar's would, and he would open his eyes and flap roundon his perch, shouting much bad bird language at the retreating Tim. Butmore often both remained motionless until the cat sprang suddenly at thefood tin. More often than not he was too quick for Caesar, and would dragthe tin beyond reach of the chain before the bird could defend it, inwhich case the wrath of the defeated was awful to behold. But sometimesCaesar managed to anticipate the leap, and Tim did not readily forgetthose distressful moments when the cockatoo had him by the fur with beakand claw. He would escape, showing several patches where his coat hadbeen torn, and remained in a state of dejection for two or three days,during which battles were discontinued. It took Caesar almost as long torecover from the wild state of triumph into which his rare victoriesthrew him.
A Little Bush Maid Page 2
