But their laughter is mostly a giggle, especially in the presence of white men. I never heard from any of them a boisterous outburst, nor ever heard one with a bass voice—unless he also had a bad cold.
My "Hanson" was not wholly uncivilised. He wore, as I said, an "ulster." Now, a blackfellow's full dress away from settlements consists of an "ulster"—not universally so called—and a waist band, which are worn low down in front. The "ulster" measures about 10 inches by 6, and is suspended from the band. Of course where white men are stationed and the blacks are permitted to congregate, the "nager," or clothes-line, is drawn lower down and higher up on the part of the females, and those of the males who can procure them wear bifurcated garments.
* * * *
Eight miles from the Hanson Well, and we are at the Stirling horse-breeding station. Fair road for most of the spin, though there are three sandhills near the end of it. And in the short spin, too, we say good-bye to that salt bush—here a strongly-growing patch—which has been for so many miles, so many hundred miles, our sole companion.
A wide, fertile and picturesque creek-flat, studded with gums, was ridden over before the Stirling Creek itself, and afterwards the station, came into view. Following up the watercourse I had arrived within a couple of hundred yards of a not imposing little row of buildings (for all that, there was a pleasure in sighting them) without being able to detect a soul, when suddenly out of the creek started up, as if by magic, about fifty of the best specimens of Australia's hirsute savages I have ever had the opportunity of picking up broken pieces of volapuk from—a handsome, murderous-looking set of able-bodied cut-throats, who came racing towards me.
"Hello, my beauties," I said, and pressed as quickly as convenient to an open door.
Resting the bicycle against a verandah post, I looked inside and asked hungrily "Anybody home?" but there came no reply.
Wheeling sharply and addressing the crowd of sable ungarmented savages, now volubly "yabbering" and deeply interested in a discussion of the bicycle—"Which way boss walk, sit, run, tumble down, or jump up?" I enquired anxiously.
One only, so far as I could make out, laid claim to be a linguist.