Off at last! The tearful breakfast is over. The long string of cattle has poured out of the mustering paddock gates, followed by Hubert Warleigh, with Duncan Cargill and Selden, who were permitted to help drive during the first stage; Mr. O’More, in cords and top-boots, with a hunting-crop in his hand, wisely declining a stock-whip for the present. His horse bears a cavalry headstall bridle, with a sliding bridoon rein—‘handy for feeding purposes,’ he says. He has yet to learn that, after a week’s cattle-driving, most horses may be trusted to graze with the reins beneath their feet, which they will by no means tread upon or run off with.
A couple of brown-faced youngsters, natives of Yass, have been hired, as road hands and to be generally useful, for the term of one year. These young persons are grave and silent of demeanour; have been ‘among cattle’ all their lives, and no exception can be taken to their horsemanship. They afford an endless fund of amusement to O’More, who forces them into conversation on various topics, and tries to imitate their soft-voiced, drawling monotone.
Dick Evans drives the horse-dray, destined to go no farther than the Snowy River, after which the camp equipment will be carried on pack-horses, the road being closed to wheels. They are now being driven with the cattle, accoutred with their pack-saddles and light loads to accustom them to the exercise.
Dick has had a characteristic parting with Mrs. Evans, who saw him prepare to depart without outward show of emotion.
‘Now mind you behave yourself, Evans, while you’re away, and don’t be running off to New Zealand, or the Islands, or anywheres.’
‘All right, old woman,’ said Dick, cracking his whip. ‘You’ll be so precious fond of me when I come back that we shan’t have a row for a year afterwards.’
‘No fear; not if you was to stop away five year!’ retorted his spouse, with decision. ‘Take care as I don’t marry again afore you come back, if you hang it out too long.’
‘Marry away and don’t mind me, old woman,’ returned the philosophical Dick; ‘I shan’t interfere with the pore feller. Leave us the old mare, that’s all. A good ’oss, that you can’t put wrong in saddle or harness, ain’t met with every day.’
Here Mrs. Evans, seeing a smile on the faces of the listeners, began to think she was occupying an undignified position. Putting her apron to her eyes, with a feeble effort at wiping a few tears away, she solemnly told her incorrigible mate that she hoped God would change the wicked old heart of him, as wasn’t thankful for a good wife, as had cooked and worked for him, and been dragged about the country all these years, and now to be told she was worse than a brute beast! Here real tears came.
‘The mare can hold her tongue, at any rate,’ quoth Dick; ‘and where’s the woman you can say as much of, barrin’ Mrs. Wilson of Ours, as was born deaf and dumb? But come, I didn’t mean to fret ye, and me on the march. Give us a buss, old woman! Now we part all reg’lar and military like. You know women’s not allowed with the rigiment in war time. Mind you take care of the missus and the young ladies, and keep a civil tongue in your head.’