The Squatter.

Evening Post, Volume L, Issue 54, 31 August 1895, Page 1 (Supplement)

The Squatter.

We met him at Pierson's private bar during the wool sales, and he talked of sheep, and clips, and, above all, of "his place." The man's exterior did not give the impression of the owner of countless flocks and herds ; but then, as the doctor remarked, "These great pastoralists often dress as meanly as swagmen." He carried a large pocket-book, whose plump proportions he would often refer to in a casual way ; but it chanced on more than one occasion, when a big score of drinks had to be paid for, that he found his cheok-book had, by some unaccountable oversight, been left at his hotel. "Great men are often so forgetful," the doctor explained to me, as he cheerfully paid the reckoning. " You must comedown to my place," the squatter would say as ha parted from us; "I'm getting tired of asking you, but if you want to have a month's real pleasure, wallaby drives, kangaroo stalking, and a genuine country home of the right stamp, then come along. Send me a wire at any time and my drag shall be at the station to meet you." This was how it came about that the dootorsaid to me : " Let us go and spend Easter with the squatter. We shall have a bit of sport, a spell from the grind, and a royal reception From our old friend. lam sure he will be offended if we deoline his invitation any longer." , A long journey by a western train, and we were deposited at a bush siding. No trap was there, no hotel or township, nothing but the wild bush, a weatherboard accommodation house, and a railway porter. Evidently our wire had missed delivery, but we were cheered to learn that the mail:oach would take us within half-a-mUe of Johnson's place. An hour later, like two Robinson Crusoes, i gun on each shoulder, we left the mailman and ploughed into the bush track he bad told us to follow. Our bulky belongings we had hid in the sorub. A sound of ohopping ahead, and we came to 'a familiar figure Astride a fallen apple tree. "Well, this-ia good, of you," exolaimed the squatter, joyfully, as he extended towards us twoAands smeared with honey. " Welcome to Wooltergatta ! You are just in time to taste some of my honey " ; and lie handed us eaoh a piece of comb from the iollow of the tree. " Now, that is what I jail honey— none of your Sydney -glucose ibout that, hey ! But come along— you must want some lunch." The. squatter, in moleskin pants and flannel shirt, bare-headed and bare-footed, led the way with a step of --lordly hospitality. "Why did you not send a wire? I would have had one of my fellows to meet pou.' Come by the coach, I suppose? Beastly shaky old trap— a disgrace to the district ; but come along up to the house." A three-acre clearing dotted with stumps, 3, bark humpy and a lean-to shed. "How is that for a homestead now? Look at the view ! Look at the prospect ! I call that the finest site for a residence on this continent. Leave your guiit there, under the verandah, and I will take yon up to the lavatory. You must -want a wash after your long journey ; then I will present you to Mrs. Johnson — she will be as delighted as she can be." The squatter led the way to a waterhole. Here we " slooshed ''our hands and faces, taking for a towel some loose stringybark. " Nature's fountain, my boys. The bath of the gods. What do you think of that ? None of your Menziea' Hotel about my place, eh !" We oheerfully agreed with him as we vainly endeavoured to free our skin and clothes from the bark fibres. Mrs. Johnson, a red-headed lady in a print skirt and a slip body of flour-bag material, greeted us on our return to the hut. " Ton must wait a bit, miaten, till I get you a bit of tucker ; you must be real hungry to be sure." On the table there was boiled pumpkin, damper, a bone of oorned beef, and empty jam-tins filled with black tea. The doctor found a gin-case, I a stool, and we drew up next to an assorted orew of shockheaded youngsters. " Now/ this is what I call a bit of beef," said the squatter, flourishing his knife. " I never kill a beast over four years old ; that's the prime age, and I like it prime, you make no mistake." ' "Why, dad. that's a bit of the oow the dingoes killed in the gully," interjected one of the youngsters. The squatter did not heed the remark, or alter for a moment his bland, benevolent smile. " Now, try those pumpkins, you.will find them genuine— grown in my owntgarden — I can recommend them. Make .yourselves quite at home— rfrom the cellar to:the garret all is at your disposal." For some,- minutes ''the dootor and I wrestled unsuccessfully with' tKe" siloes of hide or 'hoof the .-squatter had\ hacked oS for us, drank, the nauseous tea mads with oreek -water,' and oheweoVthe heavy chunks of damper. '■ " If youhavefinished your snack, gentlemen, oomo and Bee the new house. . 'He led the way to a oleared hill-side.'" " How is that for a residence, now PV. 'and the squatter waved his hand, us though in front of a majestic building. "This is the terrace with the marble steps— you 'will notice that the drawing-room opensou to it with French casements. Tl)e entrance halt is wide and spacious — I like room to turn round. But come along this passage to the billiardroom. There now ! Bid you ever see an apartment better lighted ? I have given an amount of study to this room you would hardly credit " We looked on in amazement. A few wooden pegs, stuok here and there in thb ground, were the only substantial parts of the regal structure the squatter conducted us over. " You are not going home again? Why, I expected you to stay a month at' least ; it will take you that time to thoroughly test the sport on my run. Well, if you must, you must ; I will force no' man. Let me call some of my hands to harness up the sulky.'L „ _ 7 But for some mysterious reason Bill, Tom, and Harry did not come up when they were called. The sulky, too, was m»fortnV nately undergoing repairs at'a neighbouring town, and the quest ended by a freoklyfaced boy oafohlng an old hone and harnessing him up to a wood-dray. -' . ' "Take your seats, , gentlemen ! Take your seats !" The 'squatter' was on, the off-shaft. " They may say what they like .about coaches and oarriages, and, of oourse, a man in my position has to' keep them ; but for real solid oomfort give' me a' well-built dray. Now,- 1 know this dray,-' every stick .of it; there is not a better, in .the country ; you are real safe once you are aboard, ,that ;I will guarantee. Now, don't she ride a spring- mattress. When I have a dray buUt— l" - - There was no end to the squatter's talk. Even when he had seen us' safely seated in the returning majl-ooaoh, 'he was full of pressing invitations for us to come again. ' "You shonld come .when you. have more time. You have nob seen my'woolshed,. and the irrigation plant alone would be. a real lesson to yon." . , „, .-> We drew a sigh of relief as the ooaoh drove on. • . m. '■ i"What is her" enquired the dootor of the ooaohman, nodding his head towards the squatter,' who was standing upon the dray, waving an adieu. .'- ,- 1 i "Harmless, quite . harmless !" replied the driver, throwing his. nose in 'the air.— Henry Fletcher, in the- Sydney Bulletin. ■> ,f V -■.' - ' ',--;■