After a time they overtook the black, and had to dismount to rearrange the baggage on the packhorse, which was sadly disarranged; but this did not seem to trouble Shanter, who stood by solemnly, leaning upon his spear, and making an occasional remark about, “Dat fellow corbon budgery,” or, “Dis fellow baal budgery,”—the “fellows” being tin pots or a sheet of iron for cooking damper.
“Fellow indeed!” cried Rifle, indignantly; “you’re a pretty fellow.”
“Yohi,” replied the black, smiling. “Shanter pretty fellow. Corbon budgery.”
But if the black would not work during their excursion after the fashion of ordinary folk, he would slave in the tasks that pleased him; and during the next few days their table—by which be it understood the green grass or some flat rock—was amply provided with delicacies in the shape of ’possum and grub, besides various little bulbs and roots, or wild fruits, whose habitat Shanter knew as if by instinct. His boomerang brought down little kangaroo-like animals—wallabies such as were plentiful on the range—and his nulla-nulla was the death of three carpet-snakes, which were roasted in a special fire made by the black, for he was not allowed to bring them where the bread was baked and the tea made.
So day after day they journeyed on over the far-spreading park-like land, now coming upon a creek well supplied with water, now toiling over some rocky elevation where the stones were sun-baked and the vegetation parched, while at night they spread the piece of canvas they carried for a tent, hobbled the horses, and lay down to sleep or watch the stars with the constellations all upside down.
They had so far no adventures worth calling so, but it was a glorious time. There was the delicious sense of utter freedom from restraint. The country was before them—theirs as much as any one’s—with the bright sunshine of the day, and gorgeous colours of night and morning.
When they camped they could stay as long as they liked; when they journeyed they could halt in the hot part of the day in the shade of some large tree, and go on again in the cool delightful evening; and there was a something about it all that is indescribable, beyond saying that it was coloured by the brightly vivid sight of boyhood, when everything is at its best.
The stores lasted out well in spite of the frightful inroads made by the hungry party: for Shanter contributed liberally to the larder, and every day Norman said it was a shame, and the others agreed as they thought of cages, or perches and chains; but all the same they plucked and roasted the lovely great cockatoos they shot, and declared them to be delicious.
Shanter knocked down a brush pheasant or two, whose fate was the fire; and one day he came with something in his left hand just as breakfast was ended, and with a very serious aspect told them to look on, while he very cleverly held a tiny bee, smeared its back with a soft gum which exuded from the tree under whose shade they sat, and then touched the gum with a bit of fluffy white cottony down.
“Dat fellow going show sugar-bag plenty mine corbon budgery.”