An Outback Marriage

Charlie introduced himself. "My name's Gordon," he said, "and this

is a friend of mine. We've come to take this block over."

"You're welcome to it, Mister," said the old man promptly. "It's

about broke me, and if you don't look out it'll break you. Any man

that gits this place will hump his swag from it in five years, mark

me! Come on down to the house," he continued, picking up the rope

and other gear lying about the fence. "Now, you boys, let that

steer out, and then go and help the gins bring the cattle in. Look

lively now, you tallow-faced crawlers. Come on, Mister. Did you

bring any square-face with you?"

"We brought a drop o' rum," replied Charlie.

"Ha! That'll do. That's the real Mackay," said the veteran, slouching

along at a perceptibly quicker gait.

"But, look, see here now, Mister!" he continued, anxiously, "you

didn't let Ah Loy get hold of it, did you? He's a real terror, that

Chow of mine. Did you see him when you came in?"

"Yes, we saw him. He couldn't speak any English, seemingly."

"That's him," said the old man. "That's him! He don't savvy much

English. He knows all he wants, though. He can lower the rum with

any Christian ever I see. It don't do to let him get his hands on

a bottle of anythink in the spirit line. It'll come back half-empty.

Now then, cook," he roared, seating himself at the rough slab table,

and drumming on it with a knife, "let's have some grub, quick, and

you'll get a nip of rum. This new boss b'long you, you savvy. All

about station b'long him. I go buffalo-shooting. Me stony broke.

Poor fellow me! Been fifteen years in this God-forgotten country,

too," he said reminiscently, placing his elbows on the table,

and gazing at the wall in front of him. "Fifteen years livin'

mostly with the blacks and the Chineyman, and livin' like a black

or a Chineyman, too. And what have I got to show for it? I've got

to hump my bluey out of this, and take to the road like any other

broken-down old swagman."

"It's a bit rough," said Charlie. "How did you come to grief?"

"Oh, I came out here with a big mob of cattle," said the old man,

filling his pipe, as Ah Loy placed some tin plates, a tin dish,

and a bottle of Worcester sauce on the table, and withdrew to the

kitchen for the provender. "I lived here, and I spent nothing, and

I let 'em breed. I just looked on, and let 'em breed. Oh, there was

no waste about my management. I hadn't an overseer at two pounds

ten a week, to boss a lot of flash stockmen at two pounds. I jest

got my own two gins and three good black boys, and I watched them

cattle like a blessed father. I never saw a stranger's face from

year's end to year's end. I rode all over the face of the earth,

keepin' track of 'em. I kep' the wild blacks from scarin' 'em to

death, and spearin' of 'em, as is their nature to, and I got speared

myself in one or two little shootin' excursions I had."