Sydney Loch

“ In the doorway of the hut, looking towards him through the dark, stood Moll Gregory. Lamplight from inside passed her and pierced the night with a long beam. She held an empty basin in her hands. The dark was clear to him who had ridden half-a-dozen miles through it; but she looked before her in a puzzled way.
"Is that you, Mr. Power?"
"Yes, Molly."
He believed he shook when he spoke to her. She was a draught of water, chilled by snows from high peaks, offered into the hands of a dying man. How she impassioned the night with her loveliness. ”

“ At Surprise seven red-hot days had crowded after one another; six breathless nights had brought men and women gasping to their doors. The seventh evening had seen, an hour since, the moon come up, white, round and full, behind the Conical Hill; and with the moon arrived a flagging breeze—not cold, not even cool, but with life left to turn the narrow gum-leaves, to move the tent walls and the hessian blinds on the verandahs of the iron houses. The moon had climbed the hilltop an hour since, and now was some distance in the sky. ”

“ The savage is dreaming of the feast to come, the kangaroo has taken himself to the roots of a tree in the dried water-course. The sun passes to the journey's end: life again draws breath. The kangaroo seeks the tenderer grasses; the dingo rises in his lair to stretch, and loll his tongue; the parrot screams from the tree-top; tiny finches, in splendid coats, swing among the bushes; a brown kite takes high station in the sky. Yet the waste seems empty, and the white ants only may boast of conquest where their red cones rise everywhere about the plain. ”

“ Power drew his reins together and finished the journey up the hill. You look upon a very fair prospect from the summit of Dingo Gap; long lines of hills lifting broad bosoms to the sky; far behind on the plain the broad belt of the river; ahead the broken pathway dipping downward to Surprise. Power was short-sighted that evening, and waiting up there to breathe his horse he fell into a brown study, and looked from a pinnacle of his soul down a valley long as the roadway of Dingo Gap. Mayhap he called himself turncoat, wearer of any man's livery, weathercock to flap wings to every wind ”

“ The sun climbing round the base of Conical Hill at daybreak next morning, found Selwyn already abroad, and in the very best of humours. The gentle trickle of last night's nightcap down his gullet had warmed the very cockles of his heart, so he told a mud-lark discussing an early worm among the saplings. He was outside before the day was properly alight, standing on the front verandah, hands deep in pockets, legs set apart, sniffing the remnants of a night breeze, which had not yet fled the sun's wooing. ”

“ The heat of the day came into the spot of his choosing, the sun climbed into the sky, and he judged the hour towards noon. He rose to his feet, pushed a handkerchief about his face, and grew busy gathering sticks on a square of barren ground.
There came through the timber, after many minutes, a far-off murmur, such as might travel from a distant surge of the sea, or from a heavy wind moving in a hollow. It was vague, and many would have been at pains to pick it up; but the horse lifted ears to it, and Power came out of his brown study. ”

“ As the sun leans down to the horizon, the driver draws taut his reins before Surprise Valley Hotel. Surprise Valley ends the coach journey—ends the direct mail service—ends the bush parson's endeavors—ends the travelling school-master's rounds—ends civilization—ends everything. When humour so inclines them—which is seldom—the people of Surprise Valley may walk from their doorways into the great unknown of the West.
Fortune has given to Surprise the greenest fold of the western ranges. Easy hills stand up about the camp, tracing a zig-zag rim against the sky. ”

“ He, too, then finds his seat. The day's work begins pleasantly, with not undue wear and tear, as is the genial custom at Surprise. The satisfying swish of ledger pages and the scratch of pens are all the sounds to wake the spiders in their webs in the high corners.
But ruder sounds will break that cloistral peace. Old Neville, stick in hand, the first pipe of the day in his clutch, steps down that way from breakfast on most mornings of the week as a start on the daily round.
"Hey!" cries he, waving his stick in at the doorway of a sudden, "What sawn timber have we on hand?" ”

“ Kaloona household woke up to a cheerless day. In a lull between the storms light crept into the sky. Power from his window, Mrs. Elliott and Maggie from the kitchen, stared upon a strange country. Heaven was choked with frowning clouds looking down upon a broken land. Pools of water filled the depressions. The higher country was beaten and furrowed. Many boughs had been torn from the timber by the river. The saplings bent piteously before the morning wind. Moisture dripped from the leaves down and down until it reached the ground. In all places tiny streams trickled about the country. ”

“ Very fair grows Kaloona by moonshine or by starshine on summer nights; the water sleeping, the night loud with insect voices, the sound of splashes in the shadows.
[Pg 178]
Summer finds it a fair spot; but winter brings it loveliness with both hands. The breath of the frost comes down at night, and sends a man abroad at dawn blowing his fingers, and throwing an eye to the East for the lie-a-bed sun. It comes at last, big and red, tumbling over the country in long jolly beams. Now in tree and bush begin the birds, calling, whistling, crying, mocking. ”

“ A belt of greener timber stands out bravely from the faded vegetation to mark the river on its passage to the sea. To the parching waterholes the pelican comes at dawn to fish and to pout his breast: snowy spoonbills and divers splash in the lonely shallows. The alligator comes up to sun himself; the turtle bubbles from the hot mud; and the quick striped fishes play at hide and seek among the languid weeds. The kingfisher busies himself along the bank, and with evening the ducks push their triangles about the sky. ”

“ Ever Love turned in flight to mock him. Ever Love danced away on rosy toes. Strange teaching this—that a man can own the House of Love, and stamp adown the house from garret to cellar, and not on one couch find Love awaiting him. This child would lie in his arms through long minutes, would kiss back his kisses at his command, and press back his embraces—and all the passion spent on her passed over her, as when the clouds open on an autumn day, and the sun runs across the waiting field. As he sealed her eyes with kisses, behold they were sleepy with dreams another had laid there ”

“ The fall of a hill, the sweep of a dry creek bed, a few patterings of passage in the dust—these answered most questions he asked. In that country was no better judge of where to come up with a mob of cattle, nor one, be it night or day, who rode straighter to a point. He passed over the plain sitting easy in the saddle, pipe in mouth, whip on arm, his head fallen forward, as a man sits asleep. ”

“ The stars would faint, the first glow of dawn would spread behind the trees upon the river, one or two birds would tune their throats a little while. Light would grow. Presently, advancing horse-bells cried across the distance, Jackie's whip banged out in the stillness, and the thud of many hoofs striking the ground rumbled from afar. With a brave chiming of bells, the horses would come home.
Mrs. Elliott, the cook, and Maggie, the maid of all other work, arose betimes on these long days. There was much to do. Mr. Power would come looking for breakfast; breakfast called for a lighted fire. ”

“ Sometimes a timid breeze comes through the doorway to cool the rising temper of the night; oftener the tent walls droop on their wooden framework; and neither pipe nor cigarette will bring me cheer.
The night wears on; the mosquito sharpens his appetite, and a fringe of the great army of flying things which moves abroad in the dark, flutters, jumps and creeps in at the doorway to the light. By half-past eight the attack has begun. Crickets in sober grey coats, black-banded on the legs, lead the advance; large crickets and small crickets. Great green grasshoppers follow ”

“ Good-bye. It had a hollow sound. Good-bye—never again to see her. To ride no more the road to the river. To forget October brought blossoms to the castor-oil tree. To clap shut his ears when her voice called....
The descent was rougher than the climb. Was he bruising his hands because the day had darkened, or because dark had come down on his hope?...
Once more to saddle his horse. Once more to take the road to the Pool. Once to say good-bye. ”

“ Power fell into reflection. Two months ago he had found Gregory sleeping a drunken sleep on the road, had taken pity on him and had led him home. In the doorway of a shabby tent beside the river he had seen Molly for the first time. Two months had gone by since then, and for sixty days he had lived life more acutely than he had believed possible. He would not wish to live life so keenly again. He seemed to have travelled in every country. He seemed to have lived in every climate. He seemed to have climbed every height and to have gone down into every dark way. ”

“ Neville, manager of Surprise, November was accepted with small complaint. Many a dawn of day, every set of sun found Selwyn striding like an honest man into the bush. Lean and pinched he showed at early morning, hat tilted jauntily forward, cigarette end pushed out below his clipped moustache, trusty gun under hooked right arm. Leaner still he looked at evening, as he followed his long shadow across the ground, marching towards a gully in the hills, where one might blunder on the Lord knew what—kangaroo, wallaby, or even a python. A python, be Gad! at one's very back door! ”

“ A curtain of heat is about their edges, a haze dwells about them. The clamour of his coming scatters sheep at their grazing, alarms the kangaroo at matins, sends the wild turkey into the taller grasses. For a night, for a day, for half another night, he is held in thrall. He alone appears eager for the journey end. He smokes, he reads, he eats: a dozen ways he sets himself to hurry time. The cool of the evening takes him to the outside platform of the car to reflect and watch the darkening of the skies—to remark the first white stars. ”

“ I shall always remember you as something very lovely and evasive. Whenever I see a tree in blossom, I shall think of you with a lantern in your hand. Whenever I see a star fall down the sky, I shall think of the first kiss I gave you. But, child, it is time we gave by our kissing. Your kisses are for someone else, and I must ride my own roads. We shall often see each other again, but this must be our real good-bye."
"Jim!" was all she said, though she leant closer to him.
They kissed their last kiss by the shrunken margin of Pelican Pool. The cloud wrack blotted out the stars ”

“ The pelican is pouting his breast in the river, and the spoonbill shovels in the mud.
After breakfast comes the saddling up, and many a clever rider can lose his seat when the frost is in the air and the young horses leave the yards.
Spring is nigh as lovely. The parrot flashes his colours in the sun, the bright-breasted finches swing in the bushes. The slim black cockatoo sweeps overhead, and the sulphur-crest screams in the high branches. ”

“ Even as the coach rolled over the first mile of the journey, and grew pigmy in the distance so that the loitering dust cloud concealed it—even as it bumped across the outskirts of the camp—the crimson sun cast savage glances across the valley, slashing the iron roofs to life, livening the dingy walls of humpies and tents, and wooing the first flies from sleep. Over all the camp breakfast fires were growing, and men and women moved in and out of doors on the primal matters of the morning. ”

“ This is Surprise Valley to the stranger eye.
Three score burnt men and a handful of shabby women here find living. They dig for the green copper hidden jealously in the bosom of the hills. From distant parts they have drifted, they stay awhile; again they drift; but the camp endures, and the wilderness is powerless to harm it. Forward and backward from the railroad, a hundred miles away, the weekly coach crawls on its journey, keeping open the track to civilization, and bringing such news and comforts as that world has leisure to send. ”