"You ain't eatin', Mister," he said, forking a duck on to Carew's
plate with his own fork. "These ducks is all right. They're thick
on the lagoon. The Chow only had two cartridges, but he got about
a dozen. He lays down and fires along the water, and they're floatin'
very near solid on it. But here's the cattle comin' up."
Looking out of the door, they saw about two hundred cattle coming
in a long, stringing mob up the plain, driven by four black figures
on horse-back. As they drew near the yards, several cattle seemed
inclined to bolt away; but the sharp fusillade of terrific whips
kept them up to the mark, and, after a sudden halt for a few minutes,
the mob streamed in through the gates. A number of rails were put
in the posts, and made fast with pegs. The riders then remounted,
and came cantering and laughing down to the homestead. All four
were aboriginals, two were the boys that had been seen at the yard.
The two new boys were dressed in moleskins, cotton shirts, and soft
felt hats, and each had a gaudy handkerchief tied round his throat.
One was light, wiry, and graceful as a gazelle--a very handsome
boy, the embodiment of lightness and activity. The other was short
and squat, with a broad face. Both grinned light-heartedly as they
rode up, let their horses go, and carried their saddles on to the
verandah, without bothering about the strangers.
"Those are nice-looking boys," said Carew. "I mean the two new boys
just coming in."
"New boys!" said the old man. "Them! They're my two gins. And
see here, Mister, you'll have to keep off hangin' round them while
you're camped here. I can't stand anyone interferin' with them.
If you kick my dorg, or go after my gin, then you rouse all the
monkey in me. Those two do all my cattle work. Come here, Maggie,"
he called, and the slight "boy" walked over with a graceful, easy
swing.
"This is new feller?" he said, introducing Carew, who bowed gracefully.
"He b'long Sydney. You think him plenty nice feller, eh?"
"Yowi," said the girl laughing. "He nice feller. You got 'em
matches?" she said, beaming on Carew, and pulling a black pipe out
of her trousers' pocket. "Big fool that Lucy, drop 'em matches."
Carew handed over his match-box in speechless amazement.
"They've been out all day with the cattle," said the old man.
"I've got a lot of wild cattle in that there mob. I go out with a
few quiet ones in the moonlight, and when the wild cattle come out
of the scrubs to look at 'em we rush the whole lot out into the
plain. Great hands these gins are--just as good as the boys."