The sun. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1833-1916, 1907-05-05

too, but tn Teller reckoned he could make
something out of tn pelts.
We'll, he might. but l wouldn't "a taken
tn contract on; They were Just droppin'
airy ridin' for johnson, but tn jobs up.
Hes left the station. He's dead broke.
Couldn't pay our last six months wages,
either No, l don't care. He's a good
bloke, ole johnson, and he done his best.
So I'm gettin' int Coonamble. I've
Dubbo. There's a Teller that married me
sister. an he's DRAWN sleepers into the line.
Coin to give me a job with one OF his teams.
Reckon it'll be a bit ahead Of skinnin' dead
sheep, don't you?'
Moreover, he was engaged to a girl in
Coonamble, whom he had not seen for
twelve months and from whom he had had
no letters for three. His fine optimism led
him to place implicit faith in the constancy
OF his lady love. .
His optimism was such that neither in the
past. the present nor the future did he find
any daunting circumstances. He had been
in the Never-Never since his boyhood.
Always he had lived the hard life Of the West
Darling country-a life Of not many com
pensations.
His ups had never been very elevatine,
his downs had been sometimes very deep.
Yet never had he found anything, in rough
or smooth, that could cause him TO regard
life unfavorably. His ~cheerfulness made
one ashamed Of ones own glum outlook.
In the last six weeks he had been through
that very worst of punishments-the drov-
ing OF dying stock through a drought
stricken country in the faint hope of saving
some OF them. lie had starved and thirsted
through merciless hot days; been smothered
in the dlststorms that sweep over the
back country like blasts from volcanoes in
the summer months; had had no recon-
pense for half a year Of heartbreaking
toil-and yet was as.light hearted, as hope
full, as philosophically Indifferent to his re-
verses as If they mattered nothing at all.
At night we came TO a creek. II wal a
kind OF groove in the plain, with a fringe of
white gums on either edge, and at long inter-
walls apart small pools OF stagnant water.
There was also a little dry grass for the
horses.
We caInped together. and after tea, as
we lay on Our blankets and smoked and
listened to the faint Jingle Of the hobble
chains as the horses fed slowly down the
creek bed, he told many tales Of the out
back life and the out-back people. They
were all happy, good humored, testing
tales that made light of any difficulty and
hardship.
He never made concealment OF his own
prowess in deeds of horsemanship and
bushcraft, or in his descriptions OF the not
%infrequent occasions when he had been
called upon to do battle on his own behalf
or on that OF the men he served. There
was never any boasting-at least, never any
lying Boosting.
One knew that he could do all that he said
he could do, One knew always that he was
just as good a man as he made himself out
to be-and no worse. But one doubted
II he knew quite what a good mar he really
was.
INC 80 when the ire mad died down 10 a
little heap Of glowing embers and he had
rolled himself up In his blanket and was
and audibly alseep, one lay awake
and thought Of him and Of his kind. And
all the interminable little voices OF the Bush
went on through the deep silence Of the
star liz night as a sort OF accompaniment
to ones thoughts.
Here wal the real cornstalk-this strong,
cheerful type Of bAok-block youth and
We Of the ~inside-the old settled
along the eastern slopes Of the
dividing range-oounted ourselves oorn-
stalks.
Our fathers had peer bred along the
fertile bends Of the great rivers that run
eastward TO he Pacific. had pioneered in
the mountains and pushed out toward
the Elusive west. They had found our.
country for us and given us our heritage, |
and left us TO make and develop what they
had secured.
just what they were-in the strength that
their sturdy, adventurous upbringine had
developed In them-we were q little ahort