Joe Wilson and His Mates [51]
other things, I sat with James,
out on a log of the wood-heap, where we generally had
our smokes and interviews, and told him all about the buggy.
He whistled, then he said --
`But what do you want to make it such a Bushranging business for?
Why can't you tell Mary now? It will cheer her up. She's been
pretty miserable since you've been away this trip.'
`I want it to be a surprise,' I said.
`Well, I've got nothing to say against a surprise, out in a hole like this;
but it 'ud take a lot to surprise me. What am I to say to Mary
about taking the two horses in? I'll only want one to bring the cart out,
and she's sure to ask.'
`Tell her you're going to get yours shod.'
`But he had a set of slippers only the other day. She knows as much
about horses as we do. I don't mind telling a lie so long as a chap
has only got to tell a straight lie and be done with it.
But Mary asks so many questions.'
`Well, drive the other horse up the creek early, and pick him up as you go.'
`Yes. And she'll want to know what I want with two bridles.
But I'll fix her -- YOU needn't worry.'
`And, James,' I said, `get a chamois leather and sponge --
we'll want 'em anyway -- and you might give the buggy a wash down
in the creek, coming home. It's sure to be covered with dust.'
`Oh! -- orlright.'
`And if you can, time yourself to get here in the cool of the evening,
or just about sunset.'
`What for?'
I'd thought it would be better to have the buggy there
in the cool of the evening, when Mary would have time
to get excited and get over it -- better than in the blazing hot morning,
when the sun rose as hot as at noon, and we'd have the long broiling day
before us.
`What do you want me to come at sunset for?' asked James. `Do you want me
to camp out in the scrub and turn up like a blooming sundowner?'
`Oh well,' I said, `get here at midnight if you like.'
We didn't say anything for a while -- just sat and puffed at our pipes.
Then I said, --
`Well, what are you thinking about?'
I'm thinking it's time you got a new hat, the sun seems to get in
through your old one too much,' and he got out of my reach and went to see
about penning the calves. Before we turned in he said, --
`Well, what am I to get out of the job, Joe?'
He had his eye on a double-barrel gun that Franca the gunsmith
in Cudgeegong had -- one barrel shot, and the other rifle; so I said, --
`How much does Franca want for that gun?'
`Five-ten; but I think he'd take my single barrel off it.
Anyway, I can squeeze a couple of quid out of Phil Lambert
for the single barrel.' (Phil was his bosom chum.)
`All right,' I said. `Make the best bargain you can.'
He got his own breakfast and made an early start next morning,
to get clear of any instructions or messages that Mary might have forgotten
to give him overnight. He took his gun with him.
I'd always thought that a man was a fool who couldn't keep a secret
from his wife -- that there was something womanish about him. I found out.
Those three days waiting for the buggy were about the longest I ever spent
in my life. It made me scotty with every one and everything;
and poor Mary had to suffer for it. I put in the time
patching up the harness and mending the stockyard and the roof,
and, the third morning, I rode up the ridges to look for trees
for fencing-timber. I remember I hurried home that afternoon
because I thought the buggy might get there before me.
At tea-time I got Mary on to the buggy business.
`What's the good of a single buggy to you, Mary?' I asked.
`There's only room for two, and what are you going to do with the children
when we go out together?'
`We can put them on the floor at our feet, like other people do.
I can always fold up a blanket or 'possum rug for them to sit on.'
But she didn't take half so much interest in buggy talk
as she would have taken at any other time, when I didn't want her to.
Women are aggravating that way. But the poor girl was tired
and not very well, and both the children
out on a log of the wood-heap, where we generally had
our smokes and interviews, and told him all about the buggy.
He whistled, then he said --
`But what do you want to make it such a Bushranging business for?
Why can't you tell Mary now? It will cheer her up. She's been
pretty miserable since you've been away this trip.'
`I want it to be a surprise,' I said.
`Well, I've got nothing to say against a surprise, out in a hole like this;
but it 'ud take a lot to surprise me. What am I to say to Mary
about taking the two horses in? I'll only want one to bring the cart out,
and she's sure to ask.'
`Tell her you're going to get yours shod.'
`But he had a set of slippers only the other day. She knows as much
about horses as we do. I don't mind telling a lie so long as a chap
has only got to tell a straight lie and be done with it.
But Mary asks so many questions.'
`Well, drive the other horse up the creek early, and pick him up as you go.'
`Yes. And she'll want to know what I want with two bridles.
But I'll fix her -- YOU needn't worry.'
`And, James,' I said, `get a chamois leather and sponge --
we'll want 'em anyway -- and you might give the buggy a wash down
in the creek, coming home. It's sure to be covered with dust.'
`Oh! -- orlright.'
`And if you can, time yourself to get here in the cool of the evening,
or just about sunset.'
`What for?'
I'd thought it would be better to have the buggy there
in the cool of the evening, when Mary would have time
to get excited and get over it -- better than in the blazing hot morning,
when the sun rose as hot as at noon, and we'd have the long broiling day
before us.
`What do you want me to come at sunset for?' asked James. `Do you want me
to camp out in the scrub and turn up like a blooming sundowner?'
`Oh well,' I said, `get here at midnight if you like.'
We didn't say anything for a while -- just sat and puffed at our pipes.
Then I said, --
`Well, what are you thinking about?'
I'm thinking it's time you got a new hat, the sun seems to get in
through your old one too much,' and he got out of my reach and went to see
about penning the calves. Before we turned in he said, --
`Well, what am I to get out of the job, Joe?'
He had his eye on a double-barrel gun that Franca the gunsmith
in Cudgeegong had -- one barrel shot, and the other rifle; so I said, --
`How much does Franca want for that gun?'
`Five-ten; but I think he'd take my single barrel off it.
Anyway, I can squeeze a couple of quid out of Phil Lambert
for the single barrel.' (Phil was his bosom chum.)
`All right,' I said. `Make the best bargain you can.'
He got his own breakfast and made an early start next morning,
to get clear of any instructions or messages that Mary might have forgotten
to give him overnight. He took his gun with him.
I'd always thought that a man was a fool who couldn't keep a secret
from his wife -- that there was something womanish about him. I found out.
Those three days waiting for the buggy were about the longest I ever spent
in my life. It made me scotty with every one and everything;
and poor Mary had to suffer for it. I put in the time
patching up the harness and mending the stockyard and the roof,
and, the third morning, I rode up the ridges to look for trees
for fencing-timber. I remember I hurried home that afternoon
because I thought the buggy might get there before me.
At tea-time I got Mary on to the buggy business.
`What's the good of a single buggy to you, Mary?' I asked.
`There's only room for two, and what are you going to do with the children
when we go out together?'
`We can put them on the floor at our feet, like other people do.
I can always fold up a blanket or 'possum rug for them to sit on.'
But she didn't take half so much interest in buggy talk
as she would have taken at any other time, when I didn't want her to.
Women are aggravating that way. But the poor girl was tired
and not very well, and both the children