"Ah! I thought so. I knew it jolly well, I did."
"Father," cried the lady, "why do you keep tormenting the poor man so? You go and sit there under the sunshade, and I will tell the girl to bring you some dinner. Poor man! walked all the way from Palmer."
I went and seated myself by a large table which stood in the yard, and as soon as I sat down I fell asleep; then I would start up again, and fall asleep again, and every time I opened my eyes I saw them all sitting on the verandah watching me. The servant-girl brought a large supply of roast beef and potatoes, also a plum-pudding, but I could eat nothing. When I had tried a couple of mouthfuls the squatter came down to me and said he would show me a bed where I could lie down. "And when you have had a good sleep," said he, "then I will find you a job of some kind, if you want it."
I slept for nearly twenty-four hours, and when I had fully recovered, which took me three or four days, I had a job at ring-barking trees for the squatter for ten shillings per week. That was all he offered me and I did not care to ask for more—indeed, I was very well pleased. When I had been there two or three weeks, and I thought we were about quits, I asked for my wander-book again—in other words, I explained that I was a carpenter and expected to earn better money if I could get to Mackay. I am glad to say that he would have liked to keep me, and he offered me a job as stockman for a pound sterling a week, but still that did not suit me at all, so I went my way again with a few rations in my bag and twenty shillings in my pocket. I will not ask the reader to follow me step by step on this memorable journey. No doubt it will quite plainly appear that I have gone through a terrible lot of hardships in my time, but although I admit I should not care to have to do it again, yet it is a fact that, when I think of myself at that time, I seemed in no way crestfallen. On the contrary, I was always in the best of humours, and never doubted for one moment that good fortune would come again. It has always been a fact in my case that when I, as on this journey, have had very scanty food for some time, my voice becomes much better and clearer. So that as I came along the road, or in the night when I was camped, I would enjoy myself by singing as well as if I had been a performer at a concert. Alas! many matters which unfortunately would not interest me much now, had at that time great attraction for my mind—a bird, a wallaby scudding across the road, a strange plant, all such things would set my imagination going. It is only as we grow older and get more sense that such trivialities cease to amuse!
The next place on this journey where anything worth relating occurred was at a sugar plantation about sixteen miles from Mackay. I arrived there at eight or nine o'clock one night, but as I came past the place, some men who were camped in a tent by the road good-naturedly offered me a drink of tea, and when I had drank it and was just ready to start again one of the men, who had been away for half an hour, came back and said that I had to go up to the kitchen, where there was a countrywoman of mine who wanted to see me. I was in no way caring for a lady's company at the time, so I asked him to make my excuses to this countrywoman of mine and to say that I was gone; but all the men began chaffing me, and were nearly going into fits of laughter about her good looks, wishing they were me, that such a girl was not to be seen every day, &c., so at last I unwillingly went up to the kitchen. I never thought to see anybody more than some uninteresting sort of country girl, and I only intended to ask her, as shortly as possible, what she wanted, and then go on again. In a word, I was in rather a bad humour. The door was opened for me by a very lady-like girl, and I was quite doubtful at first whether it was the lady of the house or only the servant. All at once I seemed to remember how torn my clothes were, and my poor appearance, and felt as if I did not like to go in; but the girl seemed bent on patronizing me.
"Come in," cried she, in Danish; "be not afraid. If Danes meet in this country I think it is the least they can do to speak to one another. I know it right enough there is many a brave fellow in this country suffering hardships such as they do not dream of at home. Come in, come in!"
I did not know at first whether to feel angry or not over this speech, but—she was so pretty, and she meant well, and she was my countrywoman after all, so I took her by the hand and thanked her for her sympathy, admitting that I was rather down on my luck just then, but that I had great hopes that things would soon take a turn for the better. Then she offered me a cup of tea, and by and by we were chatting away like old friends. It was now about ten o'clock, and I thought it high time to take my leave, when we heard some one approach the kitchen from the house. The girl seemed to get quite terrified. "Oh," she whispered, "that is Mr. —— himself. He has forbidden any of the men to come to the kitchen; he is sure to be angry."
The gentleman came in, and while he was staring in a sort of haughty and surprised way at me the girl was sitting bending over her sewing as if she had committed a crime. I did not like the prospect of being turned out very much, and I felt also sorry for having brought unpleasantness upon her; but, after all, the want or possession of a little tact will alter matters wonderfully even at such a moment as this, so, more for the girl's sake than for my own, I saluted him in my politest manner and begged his pardon for having come into the kitchen. I said I had been travelling past, intending to walk to Mackay, but that the men on the place had told me that a countrywoman of mine was here, and that I had not been able to resist the temptation to call in the hope that it might be some one I knew. I hoped he would excuse me.
"Oh yes," said he, "that is all right; I am sure Sophy will be glad to see a friend of hers. Have you given your countryman some supper? Don't let him go away hungry. Surely you are not going to walk to Mackay to-night? There is a place over there where you might sleep: you will show him, Sophy. Good-night."
What a relief we both seemed to find at the turn things had taken! Quite a grand supper was now put before me, a white damask table-cloth was spread, silver coffee-pot and cream-jug and all sorts of delicacies appeared. When all was ready, we both sat down to the cheese, and when at last I went to seek my bed we both candidly admitted to each other that this had been a red-letter day and one never to be forgotten. I slept and dreamed, and when I woke up again I could distinctly remember what I had dreamed; and that dream I have never forgotten since. I dreamed that I saw a snake which crept on the floor, and this snake seemed to me of wonderful beauty, but I was not at all afraid of it—on the contrary, I wanted to take it so that I might keep it; for that purpose I bent towards it, but as I did so the snake seemed to rise on end until it was nearly as tall as I, and while I stretched my arm out to take it, it hissed, and when I touched it, then it bit me. I now perceived it was no longer a snake, but that young woman who had entertained me in the evening. I woke up at once, and grasped the whole dream in my mind. Then I thought it must surely be a warning. I fancy I see the sceptic smile who reads this. I should like my readers to believe in the truth of my assertions; and to those who are disposed to so believe me, I will say they may, for nothing is truer. I was lying the remainder of the night thinking of my dream and congratulating myself that there was no cause for me to feel uneasy, as I should be going away in the morning, and probably should never see that girl again. But when morning came the sun dispelled my fears, and I was soon sitting chatting with Sophy while I had breakfast. I felt wonderfully sorry that I should now have to go, never to see her again. It was, however, ordained otherwise. By the time I had the swag on my shoulder she had been into her mistress, and, without my knowing or asking it—for indeed I only wanted to get to Mackay—had interceded for me, asking that I should be offered work. Mr. ——, therefore, came out to me and said he had been told that I was a carpenter, and that he had a lot of carpenter's work he wanted done. He had no time to go into details then, but he would be obliged to me if I would glue together for him a case of chairs he had, and then he would speak to me again the next day. How could I refuse? I got out the case of chairs and stood all day gluing them together, outside the kitchen, but I could not help thinking of my dream every now and again, and I realized that there was great danger, and that if I engaged myself for one week it would be impossible for me to either tear myself away or for any one else to trust me. In the evening I sat by the fire in the kitchen, with my elbow on my knee and my head in my hand and was in a bad humour, although the girl was sitting chatting more sweetly than ever by my side. To talk about a week before I tore myself away! was it not too late already? If I had to stay here, thought I, until I could not tear myself away, then I must be weak indeed. It must never be. I will go at once—this moment. I got up and said I was going to Mackay as soon as I could get time to roll my swag together.