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Chapter XXIX. A Squatter.

That day's ride was a forty-mile one, and both horse and rider felt it severely, neither being in the best possible condition for travel. At sunset they came to a home-station, set close on the edge of a belt of she-oak timber that bordered a creek-tributary of the river Avoca. There was the usual announcement of the arrival by a half-dozen or so of canine look-outs; and then the proprietor came hastily out with an eager look and exclamation; but when he saw Philiberta his countenance fell.

'I thought it was my friend from the next run,' he said explanatorily, 'Where are you from? Have you any message for me?'

'No,' said Philiberta, 'I am only a traveller.'

The squatter scrutinised her very closely, so that she felt herself growing red and confused under his gaze. She glanced furtively at the house, in hope of finding indications of feminine presence; but there were none. Had there been, she would have declared herself at once; as it was——!

'Looking out for country or for a billet?' inquired the squatter.

'I—for a billet, I think,' stammered Philiberta.

She was rather a puzzle to the squatter, though not in the way she imagined. She thought only of her sex; he never dreamed of questioning that. Indeed, with her short hair, square face, determined chin, and complexion already changing under the sun, from its late pallor to light bronze, few strangers would have suspected her femininity. And the very improbability of her situation was a great point in her favour, so long as she wished to keep it secret.

A very brief study decided the squatter's opinion of her. She was a deserter from some station billet that had proved over-tedious, and she had taken 'French leave,' and the horse to boot. It was a not uncommon occurrence, and no business of his any way, he told himself. A squatter's notion of hospitality page 198is pretty much the same as an Arab's—food and drink and no curiosity.

'You can go round to the kitchen for something to eat,' he said; 'and Tonio will give you a shake-down for the night, if you want it.' Then, as soon as he had spoken, he repented himself. 'The lad looks a touch above the ordinary traveller, despite his shabby rig-out,' soliloquised he, watching Philiberta as she rode round towards the rear of the house. 'Good company too, I shouldn't wonder; and it's too late for Turton to come to-night now. I won't sit down and feed in splendid solitude; why the devil should I? Hi! Tonio!' he called, as he re-entered the house and sat down to a table laid in evident preparation for a dinner of unusual pretensions.

'Here, sir,' answered his cook, a swarthy Italian, ex-steward of a Yankee schooner, which he had been obliged to desert on account of a little stabbing affair that had resulted in the death of the 'other fellow.'

'Send that traveller in here, and serve dinner as soon as you like. No use waiting any longer for Mr. Turton.'

Philiberta, apprehensive and palpitating, entered the room.

'Sit down,' said the squatter cheerfully; 'I'm just going to have dinner, and we may as well make it a company affair, if you are agreeable. A fellow gets a little tired of dining by himself everlastingly. Sit down.' Philiberta did so with a sense of relief and reassurance. 'Mutton and chicken,' remarked the squatter, giving the carving-knife a preparatory whet upon the fork. 'I can recommend both. A saddle of one of my best merinos, cooked by Tonio, is not to be beaten in this country-side, though I say it. The rooster was just learning to crow, I believe, when death by violence put a final stop to his flute. Have you come far to-day?'

'About forty miles,' said Philiberta.

'Then you ought to be pretty sharp-set. Let us begin on the rooster, say?'—'Thanks,'—'And wind up with the merino. I don't go in sumptuously for several courses as a general thing, but I expected my friend and nearest neighbour, Turton, over to-day. He is a beggar for making promises and breaking page 199them. You can never make sure of him till you see him. Tonio, the sherry. You will take sherry, Mr.——?'

'Thanks,' said Philiberta, ignoring the inquiry on the last word, and glad of the wine to stave off a certain dangerous faintness that came over her—the result of fatigue.

'I'm as hungry as a hunter myself,' said the squatter, plying his knife and fork industriously. 'I've had a stiff time of it this last fortnight; had to do my own work and that of two boundary-riders that gave me the slip and cleared out, after dodging cheques out of me in advance under pretence of wanting to send money to their mothers. Bad luck to them! But it serves me right for being so soft-hearted—soft-headed, though, is nearer the mark. But when a fellow hits me with his mother, so to speak, I can't help giving out at once. It's the nature of the beast, I suppose. Lord knows when I shall be able to get other men up here in place of those two scrubbers.'

A daring idea came into Philiberta's mind.

'Would you give me employment in place of one of them?' she asked.

The squatter took a business-like survey of her.

'I shouldn't mind,' he said, 'if you think you are up to the work. Do you know anything about stock?'

'I used to understand it pretty well. I have not been amongst it much of late years, but I think I could soon pick up what knowledge I may have forgotten.'

'Late years! Why, now, how many years do you reckon to have lived in all? Not many, to judge by the look of you.'

'I dare say I look younger than I am,' said Philiberta, 'but——'

'But I suppose it is your bare face does it,' continued the squatter—to her relief, for she was beginning to flounder. 'A beard makes a tremendous difference, I know. There's Turton's younger brother, for instance; he is not more than three or four years my junior, and yet he looks fully ten; a mere youngster, in fact, because he has not a hair on his face. But, I say, do you think you are strong enough for station work? You don't look O.K., if you'll excuse plain-speaking.'

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'I've been laid up with an illness for a week or two,' said Philiberta. 'I shall soon get strong again.'

'Oh, well, you can stop on if you like. Anyone is better than no one to me just now, for I'm knocked clean off my feet pretty well with the extra work. My run isn't more than a quarter fenced yet, you see; and it's the deuce's own work keeping the stock within boundary. 'Pon my soul, I don't care how soon I sell out of the place and clear for England'

'Are you thinking of selling out, then?' asked Philiberta.

'Well, not yet a bit, you know. A fellow would be a fool to go home with a paltry nine or ten thousand, and that is as much as I should have if I cleared out now and paid off my overdraft. Two more good years—average good years—and I shall be able to quit handsomely, and then hey! for England and real life!'

He fell a musing for a few moments, and his handsome ruddy face took on a softened happy expression, as of one having pleasant reveries. Presently he looked up hastily, as if just remembering that he was not alone.

'I beg pardon,' he said. 'Have some more wine, will you? No? Then have a smoke. Have you got a pipe?'

'No.'

'There's a dozen or so on the mantelshelf.'

'Thanks, but I don't—that is to say, I have had to give up smoking since I was laid up.'

'Ah, hard lines that. Never mind, you'll soon come round here. Mudgeeburra is a healthy place; with all its drawbacks, it has that good quality. Impossible for a fellow to keep sick here.'

'Then I am to stay?' said Philiberta.

'If you like. I dare say you will make out the work well enough in a day or two; and you can take it easy till you know your way about. What have you been doing since you quitted station-life before?'

'I've—I've—been to sea,' said Philiberta.

'Run away from his ship,' soliloquised the squatter. 'That accounts for everything. Ah, well, there's worse things than page 201station-life after all, I suppose. Poor young beggar!' Aloud he said, 'Well, it's a bargain then, Mr. ——. By-the-bye, what's your name?'

'Oh, yes, my name,' she stammered. 'My name is—Tempest—Philip Tempest.'

'No, it isn't,' said the squatter, with a short laugh; 'but it will do as well as any other as far as I am concerned. Useless curiosity isn't my besetting sin, and a man has a right to wear any name he likes in a free country, I suppose. My name is Fairweather. That's my real name, you understand; haven't needed to run under an alias yet, but I might some time. You never know what may happen to a man in Australia, as some fellow has said somewhere. And "what's in a name?" as some other fellow has said. It is hard to make a remark nowadays that isn't a quotation from somebody or other. But, I say, there's a singular contrast between your name and mine, Tempest.'

'Yes, it is curious. Yours is an auspicious name for a squatter, though.'

'H'm—I question. Too much fair weather is the fault of this district, hang it! Six months of it at a stretch becomes monotonous. Your screw, by-the-bye, Tempest, will be a hundred a year, and all found. Will that suit?'

'Perfectly.'

'If you're short of cash now, say so. You can draw a little in advance, though I did make a vow, through those deserting ruffians, that I would always keep on the right side in future.'

'Money wouldn't be of much use to me here, I suppose. All I need is some new clothes, and they are scarcely obtainable in the immediate neighbourhood, I imagine.'

'Scarcely. But Tonio goes to the nearest township once a month for odd things we may happen to need. He will be going down next Saturday, so you can order him to bring in what you want. I have a standing account at the store there, and I can deduct what you expend from your cheque.'

'Thanks; then I will order a suit.'

'Well, you do look as if you'd be none the worse for a change. And you couldn't well have a worse fit,'

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'That is true,' said Philiberta, contemplating herself with a smile. She was beginning to feel quite secure in her new character. 'But my illness pulled me down a great deal, you see. And, besides, these clothes were not made for me originally.'

'So I should imagine. But won't you smoke really?'

'Thank you—no.'

'Then perhaps you would like to turn in?'—'That I should.'

'Then Tonio will show you your crib. And you will hear me about pretty early in the morning. By Jove! it will be a load off my mind if you can tackle your share of those sheep and the rest of it. Sing out for Tonio, Tempest. Good-night.'