An Outback Marriage

As soon as Hugh got his team swinging along at a steady ten miles

an hour on the mountain road, Mary Grant opened the conversation.

"Mr. Gordon," she said, "who is Mr. Blake?"

"He's the lawyer from Tarrong."

"Yes, I know. Mrs. Connellan called him the 'lier.' But I thought

you didn't seem to like him. Isn't he nice?"

"I suppose so. His father was a gentleman--the police magistrate

up here."

"Then, why don't you like him? Is there anything wrong about him?"

Hugh straightened his leaders and steadied the vehicle over a little

gully.

"There's nothing wrong about him," he said, "only--his mother was

one of the Donohoes--not a lady, you know--and he always goes with

those people; and, of course, that means he doesn't go much with

us."

"Why not?"

"Well, you see, they're selectors, and they look on the station

people as--well, rather against them, you know--sort of enemies--and

he has never come to the station. But there is no reason why he

shouldn't."

"He saved my life," said Mary Grant.

"Certainly he did," said Hugh. "I'll say that for Blake, he fears

nothing. One of the pluckiest men alive. And how did you feel? Were

you much frightened?"

"Yes, horribly. I have often wondered whether I should be brave,

you know, and now I don't think I am. Not the least bit. But Mr.

Blake seemed so strong--directly he caught hold of me I felt quite

safe, somehow. If you don't mind, I would like to ask him out to

the station."

"Certainly, Miss Grant. My mother will only be too glad. She was

sorry that we did not get down to meet you. The letter was delayed."

Mary Grant laughed as she looked down at Mrs. Donohoe's clothes.

"What a sight I am!" she said.

"But, after all, it's Australia, isn't it? And I have had such

adventures already! You know you will have to show me all about

the station and the sheep and cattle. Will you do that?"

Hugh thought there was nothing in the world he would like better,

but contented himself with a formal offer to teach her the noble

art of squatting.

"You must begin at once and tell me things. What estate are we on

now?" she asked.

"This is your father's station. All you can see around belongs to

him; but after the next gate we come on some land held by selectors."

"Who are they?"

"Well," said Hugh, a little awkwardly, "they are relations of Mr.

Blake's. You'll see what an Australian farmer's homestead is like."

They drove through a rickety wire-and-sapling gate and across about

a mile of bush, and suddenly came on a little slab house nestling

under the side of a hill. At the back were the stockyards and the

killing-pen, where a contrivance for raising dead cattle--called a

gallows--waved its arms to the sky. In front of the house there was

rather a nice little garden. At the back were a lot of dilapidated

sheds, leaning in all directions. A mob of sheep was penned in

a yard outside one of the sheds; and in the garden an old woman,

white-haired and wrinkled, with a very short dress showing a lot

of dirty stocking and slipshod elastic-sided boot, was bending over

a spade, digging potatoes.