And nowhere can the rare luxury of the conditions be more fully savoured than in Australia. Mr. Blount was firmly of this opinion, as in virtue of his late habitudes, the birds’ wild melody awoke him, as the first dawnlight tinged the grey, reluctant East.
However, on reflection he decided to take another hour’s repose, while all things were favourable to such indulgence.
Then, between sleeping and waking, he dozed deliciously until half-past seven, when he sallied forth, towel in hand, to the creek bank. In the garden was a rude, but competent bath-house, from which he was enabled to plunge into the ice-cold stream.
Truth to tell, he did not make a lengthened stay therein, the mercury being little, if anything, above freezing point, but devoted himself to a complete and conscientious scrubbing with the rough towel, at the conclusion of which, he found that a delicious glow had rewarded his efforts, and the praiseworthy self-denial of the cold-colder-coldest bath he had taken as a daily custom, ever since he could remember. It is the after taste, which, as in other matters, is so truly luxurious.
Running back to the house, he saw that his expectation of a full-sized, first-class fire in the breakfast room had been realised. After warming himself at this, he attacked the serious business of dressing for the day, which he pursued with such diligence that he was ready for the bacon and eggs, before referred to, as nearly as possible at the appropriate hour.
“Got you a good fire, you see,” remarked Sheila, who, smiling and rosy as the morn, stood in attendance. “Hope you slept well. My word! we got an awful start, didn’t know what was going to happen, when Senior Constable Moore came here the day before yesterday to get warrants for Little-River-Jack (alias John Carter), Phelim O’Hara, his brother Patrick, and also a man working in the claim, known as Jack Blunt, and one ‘Tumberumba Dick.’ Asked me and Mr. Middleton a lot of questions.”
“And what did you say?”
“We didn’t know much, or say much either, if it comes to that. Yes! knew that Little-River-Jack passed through here now and again. Where he went to—couldn’t say—hadn’t seen him lately. Heard the O’Haras were working miners from Queensland or Gippsland—only seen them once. Tumberumba Dick stayed a day or two here last week, and got on the spree rather. Said he’d sold his share to Jack Blunt, and was clearing out for West Australia. Little-River-Jack was a butcher, and supplied the small diggings.”
“What did they ask about Jack Blunt, eh?”
“Oh! a lot. What was he like?—how was he dressed?”