Joe Wilson and His Mates [65]
and waggled over the burning sticks into the blaze;
Andy had slit and nicked the firing end of the fuse well,
and now it was hissing and spitting properly.
Andy's legs started with a jolt; his legs started before his brain did,
and he made after Dave and Jim. And the dog followed Andy.
Dave and Jim were good runners -- Jim the best -- for a short distance;
Andy was slow and heavy, but he had the strength and the wind and could last.
The dog leapt and capered round him, delighted as a dog could be
to find his mates, as he thought, on for a frolic. Dave and Jim
kept shouting back, `Don't foller us! don't foller us, you coloured fool!'
but Andy kept on, no matter how they dodged. They could never explain,
any more than the dog, why they followed each other, but so they ran,
Dave keeping in Jim's track in all its turnings, Andy after Dave,
and the dog circling round Andy -- the live fuse swishing in all directions
and hissing and spluttering and stinking. Jim yelling to Dave
not to follow him, Dave shouting to Andy to go in another direction --
to `spread out', and Andy roaring at the dog to go home.
Then Andy's brain began to work, stimulated by the crisis:
he tried to get a running kick at the dog, but the dog dodged;
he snatched up sticks and stones and threw them at the dog and ran on again.
The retriever saw that he'd made a mistake about Andy,
and left him and bounded after Dave. Dave, who had the presence of mind
to think that the fuse's time wasn't up yet, made a dive and a grab
for the dog, caught him by the tail, and as he swung round
snatched the cartridge out of his mouth and flung it as far as he could:
the dog immediately bounded after it and retrieved it.
Dave roared and cursed at the dog, who seeing that Dave was offended,
left him and went after Jim, who was well ahead. Jim swung to a sapling
and went up it like a native bear; it was a young sapling,
and Jim couldn't safely get more than ten or twelve feet from the ground.
The dog laid the cartridge, as carefully as if it was a kitten,
at the foot of the sapling, and capered and leaped and whooped joyously round
under Jim. The big pup reckoned that this was part of the lark --
he was all right now -- it was Jim who was out for a spree.
The fuse sounded as if it were going a mile a minute.
Jim tried to climb higher and the sapling bent and cracked.
Jim fell on his feet and ran. The dog swooped on the cartridge and followed.
It all took but a very few moments. Jim ran to a digger's hole,
about ten feet deep, and dropped down into it -- landing on soft mud --
and was safe. The dog grinned sardonically down on him, over the edge,
for a moment, as if he thought it would be a good lark
to drop the cartridge down on Jim.
`Go away, Tommy,' said Jim feebly, `go away.'
The dog bounded off after Dave, who was the only one in sight now;
Andy had dropped behind a log, where he lay flat on his face,
having suddenly remembered a picture of the Russo-Turkish war
with a circle of Turks lying flat on their faces (as if they were ashamed)
round a newly-arrived shell.
There was a small hotel or shanty on the creek, on the main road,
not far from the claim. Dave was desperate, the time flew much faster
in his stimulated imagination than it did in reality,
so he made for the shanty. There were several casual Bushmen
on the verandah and in the bar; Dave rushed into the bar,
banging the door to behind him. `My dog!' he gasped,
in reply to the astonished stare of the publican, `the blanky retriever --
he's got a live cartridge in his mouth ----'
The retriever, finding the front door shut against him,
had bounded round and in by the back way, and now stood smiling
in the doorway leading from the passage, the cartridge still in his mouth
and the fuse spluttering. They burst out of that bar.
Tommy bounded first after one and then after another, for, being a young dog,
he tried to make friends with everybody.
The Bushmen ran round corners, and some shut themselves in the stable.
There was a new weather-board
Andy had slit and nicked the firing end of the fuse well,
and now it was hissing and spitting properly.
Andy's legs started with a jolt; his legs started before his brain did,
and he made after Dave and Jim. And the dog followed Andy.
Dave and Jim were good runners -- Jim the best -- for a short distance;
Andy was slow and heavy, but he had the strength and the wind and could last.
The dog leapt and capered round him, delighted as a dog could be
to find his mates, as he thought, on for a frolic. Dave and Jim
kept shouting back, `Don't foller us! don't foller us, you coloured fool!'
but Andy kept on, no matter how they dodged. They could never explain,
any more than the dog, why they followed each other, but so they ran,
Dave keeping in Jim's track in all its turnings, Andy after Dave,
and the dog circling round Andy -- the live fuse swishing in all directions
and hissing and spluttering and stinking. Jim yelling to Dave
not to follow him, Dave shouting to Andy to go in another direction --
to `spread out', and Andy roaring at the dog to go home.
Then Andy's brain began to work, stimulated by the crisis:
he tried to get a running kick at the dog, but the dog dodged;
he snatched up sticks and stones and threw them at the dog and ran on again.
The retriever saw that he'd made a mistake about Andy,
and left him and bounded after Dave. Dave, who had the presence of mind
to think that the fuse's time wasn't up yet, made a dive and a grab
for the dog, caught him by the tail, and as he swung round
snatched the cartridge out of his mouth and flung it as far as he could:
the dog immediately bounded after it and retrieved it.
Dave roared and cursed at the dog, who seeing that Dave was offended,
left him and went after Jim, who was well ahead. Jim swung to a sapling
and went up it like a native bear; it was a young sapling,
and Jim couldn't safely get more than ten or twelve feet from the ground.
The dog laid the cartridge, as carefully as if it was a kitten,
at the foot of the sapling, and capered and leaped and whooped joyously round
under Jim. The big pup reckoned that this was part of the lark --
he was all right now -- it was Jim who was out for a spree.
The fuse sounded as if it were going a mile a minute.
Jim tried to climb higher and the sapling bent and cracked.
Jim fell on his feet and ran. The dog swooped on the cartridge and followed.
It all took but a very few moments. Jim ran to a digger's hole,
about ten feet deep, and dropped down into it -- landing on soft mud --
and was safe. The dog grinned sardonically down on him, over the edge,
for a moment, as if he thought it would be a good lark
to drop the cartridge down on Jim.
`Go away, Tommy,' said Jim feebly, `go away.'
The dog bounded off after Dave, who was the only one in sight now;
Andy had dropped behind a log, where he lay flat on his face,
having suddenly remembered a picture of the Russo-Turkish war
with a circle of Turks lying flat on their faces (as if they were ashamed)
round a newly-arrived shell.
There was a small hotel or shanty on the creek, on the main road,
not far from the claim. Dave was desperate, the time flew much faster
in his stimulated imagination than it did in reality,
so he made for the shanty. There were several casual Bushmen
on the verandah and in the bar; Dave rushed into the bar,
banging the door to behind him. `My dog!' he gasped,
in reply to the astonished stare of the publican, `the blanky retriever --
he's got a live cartridge in his mouth ----'
The retriever, finding the front door shut against him,
had bounded round and in by the back way, and now stood smiling
in the doorway leading from the passage, the cartridge still in his mouth
and the fuse spluttering. They burst out of that bar.
Tommy bounded first after one and then after another, for, being a young dog,
he tried to make friends with everybody.
The Bushmen ran round corners, and some shut themselves in the stable.
There was a new weather-board