Joe Wilson and His Mates [10]
where we were. We saw Romany loom up, riding in from the gate;
he rode round the end of the coach-house and across towards where we were --
I suppose he was going to tie up his horse at the fence;
but about half-way across the grass he disappeared. It struck me
that there was something peculiar about the way he got down,
and I heard a sound like a horse stumbling.
`What the hell's Romany trying to do?' said Jimmy Nowlett.
`He couldn't have fell off his horse -- or else he's drunk.'
A couple of chaps got up and went to see. Then there was that waiting,
mysterious silence that comes when something happens in the dark
and nobody knows what it is. I went over, and the thing dawned on me.
I'd stretched a wire clothes-line across there during the day, and had
forgotten all about it for the moment. Romany had no idea of the line,
and, as he rode up, it caught him on a level with his elbows
and scraped him off his horse. He was sitting on the grass,
swearing in a surprised voice, and the horse looked surprised too.
Romany wasn't hurt, but the sudden shock had spoilt his temper.
He wanted to know who'd put up that bloody line. He came over and sat
on the log. The chaps smoked a while.
`What did you git down so sudden for, Romany?' asked Jim Bullock presently.
`Did you hurt yerself on the pommel?'
`Why didn't you ask the horse to go round?' asked Dave Regan.
`I'd only like to know who put up that bleeding wire!' growled Romany.
`Well,' said Jimmy Nowlett, `if we'd put up a sign to beware of the line
you couldn't have seen it in the dark.'
`Unless it was a transparency with a candle behind it,' said Dave Regan.
`But why didn't you get down on one end, Romany, instead of all along?
It wouldn't have jolted yer so much.'
All this with the Bush drawl, and between the puffs of their pipes.
But I didn't take any interest in it. I was brooding over
Mary and the Jackaroo.
`I've heard of men getting down over their horse's head,' said Dave presently,
in a reflective sort of way -- `in fact I've done it myself --
but I never saw a man get off backwards over his horse's rump.'
But they saw that Romany was getting nasty, and they wanted him
to play the fiddle next night, so they dropped it.
Mary was singing an old song. I always thought she had a sweet voice,
and I'd have enjoyed it if that damned Jackaroo hadn't been listening too.
We listened in silence until she'd finished.
`That gal's got a nice voice,' said Jimmy Nowlett.
`Nice voice!' snarled Romany, who'd been waiting for a chance to be nasty.
`Why, I've heard a tom-cat sing better.'
I moved, and Jack, he was sitting next me, nudged me to keep quiet.
The chaps didn't like Romany's talk about 'Possum at all.
They were all fond of her: she wasn't a pet or a tomboy,
for she wasn't built that way, but they were fond of her in such a way
that they didn't like to hear anything said about her. They said nothing
for a while, but it meant a lot. Perhaps the single men didn't care to speak
for fear that it would be said that they were gone on Mary.
But presently Jimmy Nowlett gave a big puff at his pipe and spoke --
`I suppose you got bit too in that quarter, Romany?'
`Oh, she tried it on, but it didn't go,' said Romany.
`I've met her sort before. She's setting her cap at that Jackaroo now.
Some girls will run after anything with trousers on,' and he stood up.
Jack Barnes must have felt what was coming, for he grabbed my arm,
and whispered, `Sit still, Joe, damn you! He's too good for you!'
but I was on my feet and facing Romany as if a giant hand had reached down
and wrenched me off the log and set me there.
`You're a damned crawler, Romany!' I said.
Little Jimmy Nowlett was between us and the other fellows round us
before a blow got home. `Hold on, you damned fools!' they said.
`Keep quiet till we get away from the house!' There was a little clear flat
down by the river and plenty of light there, so we decided
to go down there and have it out.
Now I never was a fighting man;