Undoubtedly I made myself attractive to the blackfellow mind; for, besides having proved an unexpected entertainment, I had made every one feel mightily superior to the missus. That power of inspiring others with a sense of superiority is an excellent trait to possess when dealing with a black fellow, for there were more than enough helpers next day, and the work was done quickly and well, so as to leave plenty of time for merry-making.
The Măluka and Mac were full of congratulations. “You’ve got the mob well in hand now,” Mac said, unconscious that he was about to throw everything into disorder again.
For six years Mac had been in charge of the station, and when he heard that the Măluka was coming north to represent the owners, he had decided to give bullock-punching a turn as a change from stock-keeping. Sanguine that “there was a good thing in it,” he had bought a bullock waggon and team while in at the Katherine, and secured “loading” for “inside.” Under these circumstances it was difficult to understand why he had been so determined in his blocking, the only reason he could ever be cajoled into giving being “that he was off the escorting trick, and, besides, the other chaps had to be thought of.”
He was now about to go to “see to things,” taking Bertie, his right-hand boy, with him, but leaving Nellie with me. Bertie had expressed himself quite agreeable to the arrangement, but at the eleventh hour refused to go without Nellie; and Nellie, preferring the now fascinating homestead to the company of her lord and master, refused to go with him, and Mac was at his wits’ end.
It was impossible to carry her off by force, so two days were spent in shrill ear-splitting arguments the threads of Nellie’s argument being that Bertie could easily “catch nuzzer lubra,” and that the missus “must have one good fellow lubra on the staff.”
Mac, always chivalrous, said he would manage somehow without Bertie, rather than “upset things”; but the Măluka would not agree, and finally Nellie consented to go, on condition that she would be left at the homestead when the waggons went through.
Then Mac came and confessed a long-kept secret. Roper belonged to the station, and he had no claim on him beyond fellowship. “I’ve ridden him ever since I came here, that’s all,” he said, his arm thrown across the old horse. “I’d have stuck to him somehow, fair means or foul, if I hadn’t seen you know how to treat a good horse.”
The Măluka instantly offered fair means, but Mac shook his head. “Let the missus have him,” he said, “and they’ll both have a good time. But I’m first offer when it comes to selling.” So the grand old horse was passed over to me to be numbered among the staunchest and truest of friends.
“Oh, well,” Mac said in good-bye. “All’s well that end’s well,” and he pointed to Nellie, safely stowed away in a grove of dogs that half filled the back of the buck-board.
But all had not ended for us. So many lubras put themselves on the homestead staff to fill the place left vacant by Nellie, that the one room was filled to overflowing while the work was being done, and the Măluka was obliged to come to the rescue once more. He reduced the house staff to two, allowing a shadow or two extra in the persons of a few old black fellows and a piccaninny or two, sending the rejected to camp.