But even Christmas days must come to an end; and as the sun slipped down to the west, Mac and Tam “reckoned it was time to be getting a move on”; and as they mounted amid further Christmas wishes, with saddle-pouches bursting with offerings from Cheon for “Clisymus supper,” a strange feeling of sadness crept in among us, and we wondered where “we would all be next Christmas.” Then our Christmas guests rode out into the forest, taking with them the sick Mac, and as they faded from our sight we knew that the memory of that Christmas day would never fade out of our lives; for we bush-folk have long memories and love to rest now and then beside the milestones of the past.
Chapter 24
A Day or two after Christmas, Dan came in full of regrets because he had “missed the celebrations,” and gratified Cheon’s heart with a minute and detailed account of the “Clisymus” at Pine Creek. Then the homestead settled down to the stagnation of the Wet, and as the days and weeks slipped by, travellers came in and went on, and Mac and Tam paid us many visits, as with the weeks we slipped through a succession of anniversaries.
“A year to-day, Mac, since you sent those telegrams!” we said, near the beginning of those weeks; and, all mock gravity, Mac answered “Yes! And blocked that Goer!... Often wondered what happened to her!”
“A year to-day, gentlemen,” I added a few days later, “since you flung that woman across the Fergusson”; and as Mac enjoyed the reminiscence, the Măluka said: “And forgot to fling the false veneer of civilisation after her.”
A few days later again we were greeting Tam at the homestead. “Just a year ago, Tam,” we said, “you were...” but Tam’s horse was young and untutored, and, getting out of hand, carried Tam away beyond the buildings. “A Tam-o’-Shanter fleeing,” the Măluka once more murmured.
Then Dan filled in the days, until one evening just at sundown, when we said:
“A year this sundown, Dan, since we first sampled one of your dampers,” and, chuckling, Dan reviewed the details of that camp, and slipped thence into reviewing education. “Somebody’s learned a thing or two since then,” he chuckled: “don’t notice people catching cows and milking ’em round these parts quite so often.”
In the morning came the Quiet Stockman’s turn. “There’s a little brown filly in the mob I’m just beginning on, cut out for the missus,” he said, coming to the house on his way to the stockyard, and we went with him to see the bonnie creature.
“She’s the sort that’ll learn anything,” Jack said, his voice full of admiration. “If the missus’ll handle her a bit, I’ll learn her everything a horse can learn.”