CHAPTER VIII.

THE JOURNEY NORTH.

After all, they did not go north with the Warners. Mrs. Lester's housewifely soul realised that am woman who had been away for six weeks from a home principally staffed with black servants would prefer to be without guests for at least a few days after her return, and accordingly it was arranged that they should follow Mr. Warner's party within the week.

The plan suited the Lesters very well. They were, as Dick's mother said, in a state of absolute content at being together again. It was delightful enough to explore Perth, to go yachting on the Swan with a friend of Mr. Warner's who had a beautiful little cutter; to take a motor-boat for the day, exploring up the river, or to go out into the country in a car. Wherever they went they only seemed to want to talk. There was so much to tell and to hear; so many details of the long separation to remember, to discuss, to laugh over. Dick's memory of that first happy week was that they seemed to have laughed all the time.

The Warners left in a huge motor, heaped confusedly with luggage and passengers, the twinses occupying precarious positions whenever they could escape from their mother's anxious eye.

"See you next week!" shouted Mr. Warner.

"Be sure you bring some rough clothes!" was Mrs. Warner's farewell, as she clutched at a twin who threatened to dive over the wheel. "Thick boots, mind!"

"Mind you come, old Dick!" This from Bobby.

Only Merle said nothing. She sat beside her father, looking stiffly ahead, as the car slowly slid away from the little group on the hotel steps.

"I don't see why they want to come," she had said to her father.

"Why not?"

"Oh, I don't know. I hate visitors."

"I suppose you'll get sense some day," was all Mr. Warner's rejoinder. He did not know that the curt remark hit her more sharply than a whole volume of remonstrance.

Merle was the one fly in the ointment in Dick's cheerful anticipations of his visit to the Warners' station. On the _Moondarra_ and in the hotel it had been easy enough to avoid being much with her, since she so clearly showed that she did not desire his company; but in her own home it would be different. They were too near in age, and too similar in tastes, not to be thrown together. That in itself was painful enough, since girls, to Dick, were rather boring creatures, full of queer whims and notions--not plain, straightforward people like Teddy Raine and Bottles and Nugent. But a girl who would not even take the trouble to be civil--that, in Dick's language, was "over the odds." He hoped that her governess would make regular demands upon her time, and grinned to think what would have been Merle's opinion of him, had she guessed at that particular hope.

However, life was too joyful at the moment to allow him to worry over Merle's whims. He began each day with a walk before breakfast with his father; long, brisk walks outside Perth, and long talks that bridged the year of silence that lay behind them. They swung along together, Dick rejoicing that he could now keep in step with his father--a year ago he had to jog if Mr. Lester lengthened his stride; and the father noting the development of his boy's mind as well as of his body, and meeting his questions and his crudely expressed views with a ready sympathy that knitted them more closely together than anything else could have done.

"He's only a baby yet, of course," John Lester said to his wife. "His mind is clean and open and honest; just a child's mind still. But his body--well, he's going to be something of a man, I believe."

"He is, I think," agreed Dick's mother. "And so good looking, John!"

"Oh, that!" He laughed down at her. "You women only think about handsome faces!"

"Indeed, I don't," Mrs. Lester defended herself. "I've been just as keen about his physical training as you have. I wanted him to be strong first of all. But he might have been strong and ugly--and he isn't. And you're just as proud of it as I am!"

"Well--perhaps." He smiled down at her. "But physique comes first; and he certainly has that. His muscles are extraordinarily good for such a kid."

"Fresh air and cold water," said Mrs. Lester solemnly. "That has been Dick's treatment since he was a baby, and it certainly has paid. He hardly knows what medicine is, and he looks the very picture of strength and fitness."

"Thank God!" said her husband hastily.

"Yes, thank God," she agreed. "Why do you say it in that way, John?"

"Oh, I don't know." He gave a short, half-embarrassed laugh. "They say in Ireland that if you don't add 'Thank God' after you praise anyone it brings bad luck. The peasantry there never omit it; you'll hear, ''Tis a fine child, thank God!' or 'She have lovely eyes, thank God!'--and you'll worry a peasant woman badly if you admire her baby without giving God the credit. I got into the way of it, I suppose."

"Well, it's a pretty good habit to cultivate," said his wife thoughtfully. "Look at Dick now!"

They had motored far out into the country, and had camped in the bush for lunch; after which Dick had stripped to his shirt and knickerbockers, and had begun to climb trees. Nine months of hard training in the gymnasium at school had put a finish on lifelong practice, a steady eye and a cool head. Dick had always loved climbing--before he had discarded frocks for knickerbockers he had been found by his horrified nurse some distance up a pepper tree. Now he was almost like a monkey in the swift agility of his movements. As his father and mother watched him, he swung himself cleanly across a wide gap between two trees; caught a bough with one hand, and came dropping down from branch to branch until he reached one about ten feet from the ground--a smooth, straight limb, that tempted him with its likeness to a horizontal bar. He swung head downwards, hanging by his knees, and then circled round and round with such swiftness that the slender bough bent and quivered. Finally, he turned a quick somersault in the air and came down on the grass, landing lightly on his feet.

"Good man!" said his father approvingly. "It's a pity that the gentleman who derived us all from tree-apes couldn't see you. You'd have been great support to his theory."

Dick grinned.

"Can't climb decently in boots," he said, casting a disparaging glance at his feet. "But it's jolly to get up a tree again."

"No trees at school?"

"Oh, some," admitted Dick. "We're not supposed to climb them, of course, but----" He grinned again. "But, anyhow, they're not like good bush trees, like these. I don't suppose anyone ever climbed here much, but the trees at school--well, they're just polished with climbing!"

"Being a forbidden luxury," said his father, laughing. "Well, I think I was one of the early polishers of those same trees, so I can't say anything to you."

"But you never do jaw a chap, father," said Dick comfortably.

That was one of the points that made their early morning walks so satisfactory--that there was never any "jawing." John Lester encouraged his boy to tell him each little detail of his life at school. He learned all about his friends--Teddy Raine, the captain of the junior eleven, who was easily the leader of the lower school; Bottles, fat and cheery and honest, whom everybody liked; Nugent, the homeless boy, with a father in India and no mother; these were the chief, but there were a host of others. Mr. Lester knew them all fairly well now. He learned about their scrapes and their pranks, their midnight suppers, half-holiday escapades, and--not in such details--their schoolroom life. Dick was a little shy of talking at first; but, finding only ready sympathy and interest, his tongue became loosened, and he chattered away as freely as he would to the irrepressible Teddy Raine. Mr. Lester never preached. His eye generally held a twinkle; his sharpest criticism was, once or twice, "I don't know that that's altogether the thing." There the matter ended, for him; but Dick made up his mind that the incidents in question should not happen again.

They would come back to breakfast; glowing and hungry, and make a raid on Mrs. Lester in her room, declaring that she was the laziest person alive, and did not know how much she missed; at which Mrs. Lester smiled quietly, and would go down to breakfast arm in arm between them. Not for worlds would she have made a third--even a beloved third--in those walks. Dick had lived in her pocket long enough; it was his turn for his father now, and she rejoiced in each day's new evidence of how completely they were becoming mates.

They visited the great limestone caverns at Yallingup, making a three days' expedition of it, and coming back to Perth full of the weird charm of the glistening underground world. At the hotel they found a two-days' old telegram from Mr. Warner.

"Can you start Thursday obliged to take car Westown with sick governess like meet you same trip don't worry if inconvenient can arrange anything suit you had good trip up."

Mr. Lester glanced at the date.

"H'm; and Thursday is to-morrow. The train starts at five o'clock."

"In the morning?" gasped Mrs. Lester.

"Oh, no--don't be anxious!" He laughed at her. "Five in the afternoon; and we get to Kalgoorlie at ten next morning."

"And after that?"

"After that a little train that wobbles north to Westown at its own sweet will, I suppose," said her husband. "I don't know anything about it; but it's believed to put us off at Westown some time in the afternoon, and Warner will be there with his car. We must go, if possible. I don't want to give him the long journey in from Narrung Downs again."

"Oh, we couldn't do that, of course," said Mrs. Lester hastily. "And there is no reason why we should not get away to-morrow."

"No more shopping?" asked he, smiling down at her.

"Of course, there's always shopping!" returned his wife with dignity. "But not more than we can get through to-morrow. Oh, and the packing I must do! Don't let me think of that to-night, John--take us to the theatre instead!"

"Indeed, I think it would be wiser if you went early to bed and had a good night's sleep," he said. "Was there ever such an irresponsible young person!"

"Don't want to be responsible!" said she. "I'm having a holiday. If you telephoned for seats, now----"

"You know you'll have to, father!" said Dick, capering. "Better give in nicely."

"This is what it is to be meek--you get systematically bullied!" said his father, with mock despair. "All right; I suppose I shan't get any peace if I don't." He departed whistling.

"Mother, it is nice of you not to grow up!" said Dick solemnly.

They followed their last gay night in Perth by a busy day; there was a rushed visit to shops, collecting the last odds and ends of country kit that had seemed so unnecessary when packing in Melbourne--riding gear, chiefly, with thick boots and the cooler clothes that might be found necessary up North. Then came packing, with much sorting out of luggage; most of their baggage was to be left at the hotel until their return. They were glad to get into their train at five o'clock, and its jolting failed to keep them awake during the long night while it rattled into the north-east towards Coolgardie and Kalgoorlie.

They breakfasted on the train, arriving at Kalgoorlie soon afterwards; and after a wait too short to allow them to do more than peep at the busy gold-fields capital they were off again, travelling slowly into the north. Soon the mullock heaps and poppet heads of the mines thinned out and they found themselves running through country covered with sparse scrub, with mulga and saltbush mingling with stunted gum trees and she oaks; a dreary enough land, dry and desolate, where many a gold seeker had perished from thirst in the days when every yard of earth was turned up in the search for nuggets. Now and then the train pulled up at a little township, built of weatherboard and corrugated iron, where the people crowded the narrow gravelled platform to look at the train and peer curiously in at the passengers. It seemed to Dick that as they travelled farther and farther into the country these bush folk grew more and more lean and bronzed; tall men, in blue shirts and moleskin trousers, wrinkled about the eyes, as men grow early when they live in wild spaces under a hot sun; women, in faded blouses and skimpy skirts, with print sun-bonnets or men's felt half pulled down over their eyes. Such lonely women! They stood in the doorways of little isolated homesteads watching the train wistfully as it roared past them; generally with a baby tucked into one arm, and three or four older children playing near them, or perched on the railway fence, shouting greetings to the train. Indeed, all through that lonely country, as the train sped north, came appealing shouts--from the isolated cottages, from children evidently sent a mile or two to be at the line when the train was due, or rising almost from under the wheels, from navvies working on the line. Just one word--"Papers! Papers!"--and people would jump up, and sleeping travellers rouse themselves, to hurl newspapers and magazines from the windows. Dick used to lean out to watch them flutter down like great white birds, to be pounced on by eager hands before they touched the ground. It did not much matter who got them, for they were sure to be passed round and read by every family and every camp within five miles.

Here and there, as they rattled over stony ridges or wide sandy plains, were mines; the big mullock heaps and towering poppet heads seemed to dot all the country. Some were working still; others derelict; with hardy bushes trying to find a footing in every corner where men had toiled in the feverish hunt for gold. Sometimes they saw long strings of camels slouching along in their sulky fashion, laden with wood for the mines; there were Afghans in charge of some of the teams, tall, dirty-looking natives, whose dark faces, under grimy turbans, scarcely turned to glance at the train. Donkey teams came into view, hauling waggons along the sandy tracks; it was curious to watch them sneaking in and out of the sparse mulga scrub.

The carriage grew hotter and hotter, and ever more full of dust. There was a halt for a meal at a wayside station, where the food in the refreshment room also seemed to have acquired a liberal coating of dust, and the tea was stewed to an inky blackness. Mrs. Lester fled from the meal, and lunched frugally on bananas, which, she remarked, were at least dust-proof. Then they rattled on into country that became wilder and yet more sandy, until, about the middle of the afternoon, they found themselves standing on a rough gravel platform, surrounded by their luggage, while the train vanished in a belt of kurrajong trees. A motor hooted outside, and in a moment Mr. Warner appeared, looking huger than ever in an enormous wide-awake hat, and very red-faced and hurried.

"It's splendid to see you all--welcome to Out Back!" He shook hands vigorously all round. "Had a good trip? But I needn't ask. I've done it too often myself. I was nearly late for you. A dog insisted on trying to commit suicide under the car as I was coming from the hotel, and I had no end of trouble getting him out. Wasn't hurt, only pretty badly frightened. I don't think he'll choose a motor next time he feels tired of life. Come along--we'll get your stuff loaded up, and then have a cup of tea at the hotel before we start. I told them to have hot scones ready!"

"Hot scones!" said Mrs. Lester faintly. "It sounds too good to be true!"

"I know that refreshment room on the way up," said Mr. Warner, laughing. "You all look starved; however, we'll have you home in time for dinner. Getting off here saves you two hours in the train. Of course, it's a longer run in the car, but not so wearying."

"And the governess?" asked Mrs. Lester.

"Oh, poor soul, she's pretty bad. The wife of the doctor here is her sister, and nothing would do but she must come to her. I didn't think she was fit for the journey myself. However, she wept until we had to let her go. So Merle's at a loose end again, as far as education is concerned. I've no doubt she'll find occupation enough." He was scientifically fitting luggage on the steps of the car, and lashing it firmly. "You people are wonders; I thought you'd have twice as much baggage as this. Sure you haven't lost a trunk or two?"

"Why, we were afraid you would have heart failure when you saw the amount we were bringing," said Mr. Lester, laughing.

"Bless you, this is nothing; my wife's sister came up last year with three times as much for her lone self," Mr. Warner answered. "We get accustomed to carrying luggage on the car in a way that would horrify a Melbourne or Sydney motorist. I believe I'll come home some day with a few trunks perched on the bonnet. There, that's all right." He stood back, opening the door. "Now, Mrs. Lester, I'm sure you're needing those hot scones!"

The scones proved all that hungry travellers could wish, and twice they exhausted the hotel's largest teapot. Mr. Warner hurried them over the meal, and soon they were in the car again, and the iron roofs of the little township a grey blur in the distance. The road was good firm sand, with a few softer patches where bullock teams had cut up the surface; but on the whole they made good time over it, slipping through the scented scrub that bordered the track. Wild flowers, unfamiliar and beautiful, gleamed among the trees in every clear patch; wild arums and asters and clumps of dwarf yellow cassia. They passed a wide swamp, where red legs and sand pipers stalked among the sparse rushes on the edge, and further out pelicans swam lazily, with a host of lesser fowl.

"Great shooting here," said Mr. Warner--"or would be if it were not for the blacks. Any amount of teal and musk duck and wild geese. But the blacks fairly live in the swamp when the birds are here."

"Do they shoot them?" Dick asked.

"Oh, no--they're not allowed guns. But they're very useful with spears and throwing sticks; our blacks are fairly uncivilised, you see. Later on I suppose they'll lose all their old darts and become utterly useless; that's what has happened in the eastern states."

"Do you find them faithful?" asked Mr. Lester.

"Well--sometimes. You never can tell. A woman or a boy may have every appearance of being thoroughly settled down, and of responding to training, and then some fine morning you find one 'gone bush'--back to the tribe. Possibly you never see that one again; possibly he or she will turn up six months later, quite prepared to go back to work. On the other hand, we have a few who have been for years with us. Children are their best tie; if they once become attached to your youngsters they're much less likely to go."

He talked on, telling stories of the blacks and of the wild life of the early days, leaning back in his seat with one careless hand on the wheel, while the car seemed to find its own way along the noiseless sandy track. The scattered farms that spread out a few miles from the township gave place to wide plains, partly covered with scrub, where only an occasional house was to be seen; and the road grew more and more lonely. At first they had met buggies, bullock wagons, and one or two other motors, but after a time they seemed to be the only people on the plain, and it was almost a relief when they met a "sun-downer" slouching along under a heavy swag, his felt hat pulled low over his eyes, and a battered quart pot in his hand. The sun sank lower and lower, and a keen breeze made the travellers glad to put on heavier coats. It was almost dusk when they emerged from a dense belt of gum trees and saw ahead of them a fence, stretching apparently for miles east and west, and a gate that stood open, held by a solemn black boy. Mr. Warner nodded to him, and they swept through. The track curved round a plantation of pines, and they saw a homestead so large that it looked like a village. White-painted roofs gleamed among the trees, and scattered buildings fringed the main block until there seemed no end to them, while the tall, spidery outlines of windmills towered above the green. The deep emerald of a lucerne paddock stretched down to a little creek.

"I didn't know you could grow lucerne here," remarked Mr. Lester. "In fact, I had a vague idea that nothing but sand and mulga really flourished in the West. But your place doesn't suggest that!"

"You can do a heap with irrigation," his host answered. "Between the windmills and a hydraulic ram down at the creek I can get as much water as I want; and with water you can grow anything in this climate. I'll show you all the place to-morrow."

He gave a long coo-ee, bringing the car more slowly round a fence that bordered a great garden. There seemed a dense crowd waiting for them: Mrs. Warner first, her kind face alight with welcome. Merle beside her; close at hand the twinses, struggling against control; and then a few white faces amidst a mass of black ones, all striving to have a good look at the new arrivals. The car came to a standstill, and suddenly Bobby hurtled through the throng and flung himself at the step.

"Hallo, Dick! Oh, I's so glad you came!"

Willing hands, black and white, seized upon their luggage. They drifted in through the gate, and found themselves on a very wide verandah, which completely surrounded a long, one-storied house, almost hidden by creepers. The architecture of that house was simple. It had begun by being two rooms, opening out of each other; than a room had been added at each end; then more, as need arose; until at last there were fourteen rooms, all in a long row, and all opening upon the verandahs. Kitchen, storerooms and other offices had been built across a little space from the main building, and at a later date a wing had been thrown out connecting the two; and now the space was a great sandy courtyard, with shrubs and palms growing in enormous tubs, and seats scattered here and there. The living rooms--dining and drawing rooms, Mrs. Warner's workroom, and a big man's "den" were in this new wing; the long side of the house was principally given up to bedrooms. Mrs. Warner led them inside. Two strapping black girls were putting trunks into a big airy bedroom.

"This is your room, with the dressing-room opening from it. Dick's is next door," she told them. "Bobby, you take Dick to his room."

Bobby tugged at his friend's hand.

The room into which he ushered Dick was long and bright, with two little beds in opposite corners, and windows at each side.

"Muvver said I wasn't to ask you somefing," Bobby began and hesitated.

"How's that?" asked Dick.

The small boy cast an appealing look at the second bed.

"Vat's not your bed," he said. "The uvver one has ve sheets and fings. Nobody sleeps in vat bed. 'Course, I could easy bwing up my sheets from my howwid silly bed in the nursewy, if----"

He stopped, round-eyed. "O-o-oh, I nearly wented and asked you, after all!"

Dick laughed.

"I believe you nearly did," he said. "Better not, or mother might be cross with you. I say, I'll ask you something instead. How'd you like to come and sleep in this spare bed? I'd rather like a mate!"

Bobby was out like a flash.

"Muvver! Muvver! Dick wants me to sleep in his room."

Came Mrs. Warner's voice reproachfully:

"Oh, Bobby, you asked!"

"No, I didn't--I only nearly did. True, mother!"

"He really didn't, Mrs. Warner. I asked him," said Dick, appearing.

"And do you really want him, Dick?"

"Oh, rather!"

But Bobby waited for no more. He fled down the verandah like a rabbit to its burrow, his voice coming faintly as he ran:

"I'm goin' to ask Nanna--for--my--sheets--an'--fings!"