I said nothing, thinking of the seven and a quarter pound one the storekeeper in Atherton had rung in on me. I spent the rest of the day wandering round the paddock and cultivation patch. They had plenty of vegetables growing with but little care, save keeping weeds down.
After tea we sat round the fire yarning, I giving some of my experiences and telling them of foreign countries I had visited. The kids listened wide-eyed to one who had actually been past Townsville, until the mother packed them off to bed. The night was spent comfortably enough in a bit of an outhouse, though I was disturbed several times by the infernal Biddy, who mistook my blanket for a new kind of fodder.
In the morning the kids roused me out early, and I went with the ragged, happy, laughing crowd to see Biddy and her mates milked. This looked easy, too, so of course I, eagerly thirsting for experience, had to try it. I couldn't get a drop, and presently Bid expressed her disapproval by putting her hoof into the bucket. After that I left matters to the juvenile experts.
What struck me most about the people up here is their fine independence. They don't make a calling stranger uncomfortable by apologies for their place, ostentatious dusting of seats, etc. You are welcome, as a matter of course, to pot-luck or the inevitable tea and cake, and if you don't like it you can go—courteously enough—to the devil; with no more fuss made over the Governor-General than over a passing swaggie. Eager to offer and loath to accept help of any kind; treating mishaps and heart-breaking set-backs with a sort of humorous growling, having a sturdy determination at the back of it to make a do of things. A quiet people, without any of the facilities townsfolk consider essential, doing some of Australia's best work in their quiet way, for a return, during the first few years, that a "wage-slave" would laugh at.
O'Gorman took me out after breakfast, and we quickly entered a "pad" through the dense scrub. Oh, that journey! Steady heavy rain had set in; every blooming thing in the scrub seemed to have prickles on it, or else a sting, and I soon got scratched to pieces. Dodging a swinging lawyer-vine tendril, I ran my face on a stinging tree and was in agony all day. About an hour after this we debouched on to a twelve-foot wide muddy track.
"This is your main road," said O'Gorman.
I said, "Oh! Is it?" took a step forward, and instantly went over my knees in the mud. I struggled out, leaving a boot embalmed two feet deep in the process. I cut up a sugar-bag and tied this round my foot. We proceeded along the track, painfully crawling along the edges, since it was impossible to negotiate the river of mud that was "my" road. Deeper and deeper into the heart of the bush we went, the solemn green stillness unbroken save for a few musical bird calls. Muddier and muddier became the track, and lower and lower my heart until I was nearly in danger of treading on it. Finally, panting and exhausted, we reached a big clearing, almost completely overgrown with sarsaparilla bush, inkweed and wild raspberry.
"Ah! Here we are," said my guide. "This is Braun's—next yours."
Again I ejaculated, "Oh! Is it?"
We followed a pad through the weeds until we came to a dilapidated, mildewy slab hut. We entered, and were met by a dank, musty smell, like a vault, hinting at long absence of human inhabitants. Lizards and spiders flitted here and there on the walls; a black snake shot across the floor and dived through a hole; in the fireplace a rusty billy or two and the grey ashes of a fire dead these three years. The rain beat steadily on the roof, leaking through here and there with a dismal "plop," and a chill breeze breathed through the numerous chinks between the slabs. It was the apotheosis of misery.