[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
orful liar? How about thet liar bird Jones said you could show us?--the
wonderfulest bird in Australia!"
"Rightho! Boys, if you'll get up early, I'll promise you shall hear a
lyrebird, and maybe see one."
"It's a date, Leslie, tomorrow mawnin'. Right heah. Hey, pard?"
"You bet," said Sterl, "And now let's get to work making that wagon."
The wagon, which Slyter intended for his womenfolk and all their personal
effects, was big and sturdy, with wide-tired wheels, high sides, and a roomy
canvas top stretched over hoops. Sterl examined it carefully.
"How about in water an' sand?" queried Red, dubiously.
"In deep water she'll float--when we fix her. Red, dig up a couple of chisels
and hammers while I get something to calk these seams."
In short order they had the wagon bed so that it would not leak. Then, while
Red began the same job on the other wagon, Sterl devoted himself to fixing up
some approach to a prairie-schooner tent dwelling. Sterl had Leslie designate
the bags and trunks which would be needed en route; with these he packed the
forward half of the wagon bed two feet deep. Then he transformed the rear half
into a bedroom.
Slyter arrived with the dray, and climbed off the driver's seat to begin
unhitching. His face was dark, his brow lined and pondering.
"Roland, pack all the flour on top of this load and tie on a cover," said
Slyter. "Hazelton, how's the work progressing?"
"We're about done. Hope nothing more came off uptown?"
"Testy day. Just my personal business...You'll be interested in this. Ormiston
sobered up and tried to get back into our good graces. Stanley Dann accepted
his apologies."
"Then Ormiston will go on the trek?"
"Yes. He said to tell you he had been half drunk, and would speak to you when
opportunity afforded. But he asked me if you cowboys had any references!"
"I was surprised that you did not ask for any."
"I didn't need any. Nor did Stanley Dann. Ormiston was trying to sow seeds of
discord."
"Thank you, Slyter. I'm sure you'll never regret your kindness."
"Hathaway and Woolcott left about midday," went on Slyter. "Some of their
drovers were drunk. The Danns are all ready to leave at dawn. We'll start
tomorrow sometime."
"How about waterholes?"
"No fear. We've had a few good rains lately. There'll be plenty of
water--maybe too much--and grass all the way out of Queensland. Stanley Dann
and his brother Eric had another hot argument. Eric was one of the drovers who
made that Gulf trek. He wants to stick to that route. But Stanley argues we
should leave it beyond the Diamantina River and head northwest more directly
across the Never-never. I agree with him."
It was dim gray morning when, keeping their engagement with Leslie, the
Americans mounted the shadowy aisle leading up to the house.
They found her waiting with Friday. "Aren't you ashamed? You're late...Come.
Don't talk. Don't make the slightest sound."
They followed Friday, a shadow in the gray gloom. The east was brightening.
Presently, Friday glided noiselessly into the bush. Gradually it grew lighter.
Soft mist hung low under the pale-trunked trees. They came to a glade that led
down into a ravine where water tinkled. It opened out wide upon a scene of
Page 22
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
veiled enchantment. Small trees, pyramid shape, pointed up to the brightening
sky, and shone as white as if covered by frost. Great fern trees spread long,
lacy, exquisite leaves from a symmetrical head almost to the ground. Huge
eucalyptus sent marble-like pillars aloft. Their fragrance attacked Sterl's
nostrils with an acute, strangling sensation. A bell-like note struck
lingeringly upon his ear. Friday halted. As he lifted his hand with the
gesture of an Indian, Sterl heard the lovely call of a thrush near at hand.
Leslie put her lips right on Sterl's ear. "It is the lyrebird!" Then it seemed
to Sterl that his tingling ears caught the songs of other birds, intermingled
with that of the thrush. Suddenly a bursting cur-ra-wong, cur-ra-wong shot
through Sterl.
Could that, too be the lyrebird? The note was repeated again and again, so
full of wild melody that it made Sterl ache. It was followed by caw, caw, caw,
the most dismal and raucous note of a crow.
"Don't you understand, boys?" whispered Leslie, bending her head between them.
"The lyrebird is a mocker. He can imitate any sound."
That sweet concatenation of various bird notes was disrupted by what seemed to
be the bawling of a cow.
From off in the woods sounded a mournful, rich note, like the dong of a bell.
"Another! Oh, but we're lucky!" whispered Leslie.
Across a little leafy glade, Sterl noticed low foliage move and part to admit
a dark brown bird, half the size of a hen turkey. It had a sleek, delicate
head. As it stepped daintily out from under the foliage, its tail, erect and
exquisite, described the perfect shape of a lyre. Long, slender, fernlike
feathers rose and spread from the two central feathers--broad, dark velvety
brown, barred in shiny white or gray, with graceful curling tips that bowed
and dipped as it passed out of sight into the bush.
"Wal," said Red, "yore lyrebird has our mockers skinned to a frazzle."
"That must mean something!" returned Leslie, giggling. "Come. We'll be late
and Dad will row. Let's run."
When they went in to breakfast, Roland and Larry were leaving, sober as
judges. Bill Williams, the cook, was banging pots and pans with unnecessary
force. Slyter looked as if he were going to a funeral, and his wife was
weeping. Leslie's smile vanished. She served the cowboys, who made short work
of that meal.
"Boss, what's the order for today?" queried Sterl, shortly.
"Drake's mustering for the trek," replied Slyter, gruffly.
Leslie followed them out. "I'll catch up somewhere. I'd go with you now, but
Mum...Ride King and Jester, won't you?"
Sterl found difficulty in expressing his sympathy. The girl was brave, though
deeply affected by her mother's grief. It really was a terrible thing to
do--this forsaking a comfortable home in a beautiful valley, to ride out into
the unknown and forbidding wilderness.
King surprised Sterl with his willingness to be saddled and bridled. He knew
he was leaving the paddock, and liked it. Sterl tied on the slicker and
canteen, and slipped into his worn leather chaps, conscious of a quickening of
his pulse. He took up his rifle and walked around in front of the horse. "Are
you gun shy, King?" The black apparently knew a rifle, and showing no fear,
stood without a quiver while Sterl shoved it into the saddle sheath.
"Say, air you a mud hen, thet you go duckin' jest 'cause I've got a gun?" Red
was complaining to his horse.
In another moment they were in the unfamiliar English saddles. Joining Larry,
they rode out into the open valley. Ahead of them, about a mile out of the
widening valley, a herd of grazing horses, and beyond them Slyter's cattle,
added the last link to the certainty of the trek.
Waiting this side of the horses were three riders, superbly mounted. Their
garb, and the trappings of the horses, appeared markedly different from those
of the Americans. Sterl had made up his mind about these riders of Slyter's;
still he gave each a keen scrutiny. Drake was middle-aged, honest and forcible
of aspect, strong of build. The other two, Benson and Heald, were sturdy young
Page 23
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
men not out of their teens, and sat their saddles as if used to them.
"Drake, we have Slyter's orders to report to you," added Sterl, after the
introductions.
"I've sent Monkton on ahead to let down the bars," replied Drake. "We fenced
the valley ahead there where it narrows. I'll join him. You men bring up the
rear."
"No particular formation?"
"Just let the mob graze along at a walk. We'll keep right on till Slyter halts
us, probably at Blue Gum." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl szkicerysunki.xlx.pl
orful liar? How about thet liar bird Jones said you could show us?--the
wonderfulest bird in Australia!"
"Rightho! Boys, if you'll get up early, I'll promise you shall hear a
lyrebird, and maybe see one."
"It's a date, Leslie, tomorrow mawnin'. Right heah. Hey, pard?"
"You bet," said Sterl, "And now let's get to work making that wagon."
The wagon, which Slyter intended for his womenfolk and all their personal
effects, was big and sturdy, with wide-tired wheels, high sides, and a roomy
canvas top stretched over hoops. Sterl examined it carefully.
"How about in water an' sand?" queried Red, dubiously.
"In deep water she'll float--when we fix her. Red, dig up a couple of chisels
and hammers while I get something to calk these seams."
In short order they had the wagon bed so that it would not leak. Then, while
Red began the same job on the other wagon, Sterl devoted himself to fixing up
some approach to a prairie-schooner tent dwelling. Sterl had Leslie designate
the bags and trunks which would be needed en route; with these he packed the
forward half of the wagon bed two feet deep. Then he transformed the rear half
into a bedroom.
Slyter arrived with the dray, and climbed off the driver's seat to begin
unhitching. His face was dark, his brow lined and pondering.
"Roland, pack all the flour on top of this load and tie on a cover," said
Slyter. "Hazelton, how's the work progressing?"
"We're about done. Hope nothing more came off uptown?"
"Testy day. Just my personal business...You'll be interested in this. Ormiston
sobered up and tried to get back into our good graces. Stanley Dann accepted
his apologies."
"Then Ormiston will go on the trek?"
"Yes. He said to tell you he had been half drunk, and would speak to you when
opportunity afforded. But he asked me if you cowboys had any references!"
"I was surprised that you did not ask for any."
"I didn't need any. Nor did Stanley Dann. Ormiston was trying to sow seeds of
discord."
"Thank you, Slyter. I'm sure you'll never regret your kindness."
"Hathaway and Woolcott left about midday," went on Slyter. "Some of their
drovers were drunk. The Danns are all ready to leave at dawn. We'll start
tomorrow sometime."
"How about waterholes?"
"No fear. We've had a few good rains lately. There'll be plenty of
water--maybe too much--and grass all the way out of Queensland. Stanley Dann
and his brother Eric had another hot argument. Eric was one of the drovers who
made that Gulf trek. He wants to stick to that route. But Stanley argues we
should leave it beyond the Diamantina River and head northwest more directly
across the Never-never. I agree with him."
It was dim gray morning when, keeping their engagement with Leslie, the
Americans mounted the shadowy aisle leading up to the house.
They found her waiting with Friday. "Aren't you ashamed? You're late...Come.
Don't talk. Don't make the slightest sound."
They followed Friday, a shadow in the gray gloom. The east was brightening.
Presently, Friday glided noiselessly into the bush. Gradually it grew lighter.
Soft mist hung low under the pale-trunked trees. They came to a glade that led
down into a ravine where water tinkled. It opened out wide upon a scene of
Page 22
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
veiled enchantment. Small trees, pyramid shape, pointed up to the brightening
sky, and shone as white as if covered by frost. Great fern trees spread long,
lacy, exquisite leaves from a symmetrical head almost to the ground. Huge
eucalyptus sent marble-like pillars aloft. Their fragrance attacked Sterl's
nostrils with an acute, strangling sensation. A bell-like note struck
lingeringly upon his ear. Friday halted. As he lifted his hand with the
gesture of an Indian, Sterl heard the lovely call of a thrush near at hand.
Leslie put her lips right on Sterl's ear. "It is the lyrebird!" Then it seemed
to Sterl that his tingling ears caught the songs of other birds, intermingled
with that of the thrush. Suddenly a bursting cur-ra-wong, cur-ra-wong shot
through Sterl.
Could that, too be the lyrebird? The note was repeated again and again, so
full of wild melody that it made Sterl ache. It was followed by caw, caw, caw,
the most dismal and raucous note of a crow.
"Don't you understand, boys?" whispered Leslie, bending her head between them.
"The lyrebird is a mocker. He can imitate any sound."
That sweet concatenation of various bird notes was disrupted by what seemed to
be the bawling of a cow.
From off in the woods sounded a mournful, rich note, like the dong of a bell.
"Another! Oh, but we're lucky!" whispered Leslie.
Across a little leafy glade, Sterl noticed low foliage move and part to admit
a dark brown bird, half the size of a hen turkey. It had a sleek, delicate
head. As it stepped daintily out from under the foliage, its tail, erect and
exquisite, described the perfect shape of a lyre. Long, slender, fernlike
feathers rose and spread from the two central feathers--broad, dark velvety
brown, barred in shiny white or gray, with graceful curling tips that bowed
and dipped as it passed out of sight into the bush.
"Wal," said Red, "yore lyrebird has our mockers skinned to a frazzle."
"That must mean something!" returned Leslie, giggling. "Come. We'll be late
and Dad will row. Let's run."
When they went in to breakfast, Roland and Larry were leaving, sober as
judges. Bill Williams, the cook, was banging pots and pans with unnecessary
force. Slyter looked as if he were going to a funeral, and his wife was
weeping. Leslie's smile vanished. She served the cowboys, who made short work
of that meal.
"Boss, what's the order for today?" queried Sterl, shortly.
"Drake's mustering for the trek," replied Slyter, gruffly.
Leslie followed them out. "I'll catch up somewhere. I'd go with you now, but
Mum...Ride King and Jester, won't you?"
Sterl found difficulty in expressing his sympathy. The girl was brave, though
deeply affected by her mother's grief. It really was a terrible thing to
do--this forsaking a comfortable home in a beautiful valley, to ride out into
the unknown and forbidding wilderness.
King surprised Sterl with his willingness to be saddled and bridled. He knew
he was leaving the paddock, and liked it. Sterl tied on the slicker and
canteen, and slipped into his worn leather chaps, conscious of a quickening of
his pulse. He took up his rifle and walked around in front of the horse. "Are
you gun shy, King?" The black apparently knew a rifle, and showing no fear,
stood without a quiver while Sterl shoved it into the saddle sheath.
"Say, air you a mud hen, thet you go duckin' jest 'cause I've got a gun?" Red
was complaining to his horse.
In another moment they were in the unfamiliar English saddles. Joining Larry,
they rode out into the open valley. Ahead of them, about a mile out of the
widening valley, a herd of grazing horses, and beyond them Slyter's cattle,
added the last link to the certainty of the trek.
Waiting this side of the horses were three riders, superbly mounted. Their
garb, and the trappings of the horses, appeared markedly different from those
of the Americans. Sterl had made up his mind about these riders of Slyter's;
still he gave each a keen scrutiny. Drake was middle-aged, honest and forcible
of aspect, strong of build. The other two, Benson and Heald, were sturdy young
Page 23
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
men not out of their teens, and sat their saddles as if used to them.
"Drake, we have Slyter's orders to report to you," added Sterl, after the
introductions.
"I've sent Monkton on ahead to let down the bars," replied Drake. "We fenced
the valley ahead there where it narrows. I'll join him. You men bring up the
rear."
"No particular formation?"
"Just let the mob graze along at a walk. We'll keep right on till Slyter halts
us, probably at Blue Gum." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]