A Little Bush Maid by Mary Grant Bruce

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There were doves everywhere--not in cages, for they never tried to
escape. Their soft "coo" murmured drowsily all around. There were
pigeons, too, in a most elaborate pigeon cote--another effort of Jim's
carpentering skill. These were as tame as the smaller birds, and on
Norah's appearance would swoop down upon her in a cloud. They had done
so once when she was mounted on Bobs, to the pony's very great alarm and
disgust. He took to his heels promptly. "I don't think he stopped for
two miles!" Norah said. Since then, however, Bobs had grown used to the
pigeons fluttering and circling round him. It was a pretty sight to
watch them all together, child and pony half hidden beneath their load
of birds.

The canaries had a cage to themselves--a very smart one, with every
device for making canary life endurable in captivity. Certainly Norah's
birds seemed happy enough, and the sweet songs of the canaries were
delightful. I think they were Norah's favourites amongst her feathered
flock.

Finally there were two talkative members--Fudge the parrot, and old
Caesar, a very fine white cockatoo. Fudge had been caught young, and his
education had been of a liberal order. An apt pupil, he had picked up
various items of knowledge, and had blended them into a whole that was
scarcely harmonious. Bits of slang learned from Jim and the stockmen
were mingled with fragments of hymns warbled by Mrs. Brown and sharp
curt orders delivered to dogs. A French swag-man, who had hurt his foot
and been obliged to camp for a few days at the homestead, supplied Fudge
with several Parisian remarks that were very effective. Every member of
the household had tried to teach him to whistle some special tune.
Unfortunately, the lessons had been delivered at the same time, and the
result was the most amazing jumble of melody, which Fudge delivered with
an air of deepest satisfaction. As Jim said, "You never know if he's
whistling 'God Save the King,' 'Pop Goes the Weasel,' or 'The Wearin' o'
the Green,' but it doesn't make any difference to Fudge's enjoyment!"

Caesar was a giant among cockatoos, and had a full sense of his own
importance.

He had been shot when very young, some stray pellets having found their
way into his wing. Norah had found him fluttering helplessly along the
ground, and had picked him up, sustaining a severe peck in doing so. It
was, however, the first and last peck he ever gave Norah. From that
moment he seemed to recognize her as a friend, and to adopt her as an
intimate--marks of esteem he accorded to very few others. Norah had
handed him to Jim on arriving at the house, a change which the bird
resented by a savage attack on Jim's thumb. Jim was no hero--at the age
of eleven, he dropped the cockatoo like a hot coal. "Great Caesar!" he
exclaimed, sucking his thumb, and Caesar he was christened in that
moment.

After his recovery, which was a long and tedious process, Caesar showed
no inclination to leave the homestead. He used to strut about the back
yard, and frequent the kitchen door, very much after the fashion of a
house-dog. He was, indeed, as valuable as a watch-dog, for the
appearance of any stranger was the signal for a volley of shrieks and
chatter, sufficient to alarm any household. However, Caesar's liberty had
to be restricted, for he became somewhat of a menace to all he did not
choose to care for, and his attacks on the ankles were no joking matter.

To the dogs he was a constant terror. He hated all alike, and would "go
for" big Tait as readily as for cheerful little Puck, and not a dog on
the place would face him. So at last a stand and a chain were bought for
Caesar, and on his perch he lived in solitary splendour, while his
enemies took good care to keep beyond his reach. Norah he always loved,
and those whom he had managed to bite--their number was large--used to
experience thrills on seeing the little girl hold him close to her face
while he rubbed his beak up and down her cheek. He tolerated black
Billy, who fed him, and was respectful to Mr. Linton; but he worshipped
Mrs. Brown, the cook, and her appearance at the kitchen door, which he
could see from his stand, caused an instant outbreak of cheers and
chatter, varied by touching appeals to "scratch Cocky." His chief foe
was Mrs. Brown's big yellow cat, who not only dared to share the adored
one's affections, but was openly aggressive at times, and loved to steal
the cockatoo's food.

Caesar, on his perch, apparently wrapped in dreamless slumber, would in
reality be watching the stealthy movements of Tim, the cat, who would
come scouting through the grass towards the tin of food. Just out of
reach, Tim would lie down and feign sleep as deep as Caesar's, though
every muscle in his body was tense with readiness for the sudden spring.
So they would remain, perhaps many minutes. Tim's patience never gave
out. Sometimes Caesar's would, and he would open his eyes and flap round
on his perch, shouting much bad bird language at the retreating Tim. But
more often both remained motionless until the cat sprang suddenly at the
food tin. More often than not he was too quick for Caesar, and would drag
the tin beyond reach of the chain before the bird could defend it, in
which case the wrath of the defeated was awful to behold. But sometimes
Caesar managed to anticipate the leap, and Tim did not readily forget
those distressful moments when the cockatoo had him by the fur with beak
and claw. He would escape, showing several patches where his coat had
been torn, and remained in a state of dejection for two or three days,
during which battles were discontinued. It took Caesar almost as long to
recover from the wild state of triumph into which his rare victories
threw him.

CHAPTER III

A MENAGERIE RACE

The first time that Jim returned from school was for the Easter
holidays.

He brought a couple of mates with him--boys from New South Wales and
Queensland, Harry Trevor and Walter Meadows. Harry was a little older
than Jim--a short, thick-set lad, very fair and solemn, with
expressionless grey eyes, looking out beneath a shock of flaxen hair.
Those who knew him not said that he was stupid. Those who knew him said
that you couldn't tell old Harry much that he didn't know. Those who
knew him very well said that you could depend on Trevor to his last
gasp. Jim loved him--and there were few people Jim loved.

Walter--or Wally--Meadows was a different type; long and thin for
fourteen, burnt to almost Kaffir darkness; a wag of a boy, with merry
brown eyes, and a temperament unable to be depressed for more than five
minutes at a time. He was always in scrapes at school, but a great
favourite with masters and boys notwithstanding; and he straightway laid
his boyish heart down at Norah's feet, and was her slave from the first
day they met.

Norah liked them both. She had been desperately afraid that they would
try to take Jim away from her, and was much relieved to find that they
welcomed her cheerfully into their plans. They were good riders, and the
four had splendid gallops over the plains after hares. Also they admired
Bobs fervently, and that was always a passport to Norah's heart.

It was on the third day of their visit, and they were making the morning
round of the pets, when a brilliant idea came to Wally.

"Let's have a menagerie race!" he cried suddenly.

"What's that?" Norah asked blankly.

"Why, you each drive an animal," explained Wally, the words tumbling
over one another in his haste. "Say you drive the kangaroo, 'n me the
wallabies, 'n Jim the Orpington rooster, 'n we'll give old Harry the
tortoise--turloise, I beg pardon!"

"Thanks," said Harry dryly. "The tortoise scored once, you know, young
Wally!"

"Well, old man, you take him," Wally said kindly. "Wouldn't stand in
your way for a moment. We can use harness, can't we?"

"Don't know," Jim said. "I never studied the rules of menagerie racing.
Use bridles, anyhow. It's a good idea, I think. Let's see how many
starters we can muster."

They cruised round. Dogs were barred as being too intelligent--horses
were, of course, out of the question. Finally they fixed on the possible
candidates. They were the kangaroo, the wallabies, a big black Orpington
"rooster," Fudge the parrot, Caesar the cockatoo, Mrs. Brown's big yellow
cat, Tim, and the "turloise."

"Eight," said Harry laconically. The starters were all mustered in one
enclosure, and were on the worst of terms. "We'll need more jockeys--if
you call 'em jockeys."

"Well, there's black Billy," Jim said; "he's available, and he'll drive
whichever he's told, and that's a comfort. That's five. And we'll rouse
out old Lee Wing, and Hogg, that's a ripping idea, 'cause they hate each
other so. Seven. Who's eight? Oh, I know! We'll get Mrs. Brown."

Mrs. Brown was accordingly bearded in her den and, protesting vigorously
that she had no mind for racing, haled forth into the open. She was a
huge woman, as good-natured as she was fat, which said a good deal. In
her print dress, with enormous white apron and flapping sun bonnet, she
looked as unlikely a "jockey" as could be imagined.

Lee Wing, discovered in the onion bed, was presently brought to the
scratch, despite his protests. He said he "couldn't lun," but was told
that in all probability no running would be required of him. He also
said "no can dlive" many times, and further remarked, "Allee same gleat
bosh." When he saw his arch enemy Hogg among the competitors his
resentment was keen, and Wally was told off to restrain him from flight.
Wally's own idea was to tie him up by the pigtail, but this Jim was
prudent enough to forbid.

Hogg was, as Jim put it, rooting amongst the roses, and grunted freely
on his way to the post. He could never refuse Norah anything, but this
proceeding was much beneath his dignity, and the sight of Lee Wing did
not tend to improve his view of the matter. He stood aloof, with a cold,
proud smile, like a hero of melodrama.

Black Billy was, of course, in the stables, and came with alacrity. He
had not much English and that little was broken, but he worshipped the
Linton children--Jim especially, and would obey him with the
unquestioning obedience of a dog.

"All here?" asked Jim, looking round. "Five, six, eight--that's all
serene. Now who's going to drive who?"

Opinions on that point were mixed. Every one wanted the kangaroo, and at
last a general vote gave him to Norah. Wally chose one Wallaby. He said
it was only natural, and made a further remark about the feelings of the
others when "Wally and his wallaby should wallow by them" that was
happily quenched by Harry, who adopted the simple plan of sitting on the
orator. Harry secured the second wallaby, and black Billy was given the
Orpington rooster as his steed. Mrs. Brown from the first applied for
the tortoise. She said it meant less exertion, and she preferred to be
slow and sure, without any risk of over-work. Hogg chose the yellow cat,
Tim, and Lee Wing was given Caesar, the cockatoo.

"Leaving old Fudge for me," Jim said ruefully. "What sort of a chance do
you think I've got? Never mind, I'm used to being suppressed."

"Good for you," observed Harry. "Now, how about harness?"

"Well, we'll leave that to individual taste," Jim said. "Here's a ball
of string, and there are plenty of light straps. Mrs. Brown--you're the
leading lady. How shall I harness your prancing steed for you?"

"You will have your joke, Master Jim," retorted Mrs. Brown, bridling and
beaming. "Now, I don't think I'll harness my poor beastie at all. Give
me a couple of sticks to keep his head the right way and to poke him
gently, and we'll beat you all yet!"

Norah and the two boys fixed up fearful and wonderful harness for their
nominations--collars of straps, and long string headpieces and reins.
The animals objected strongly to being harnessed, and the process was
most entertaining. Mrs. Brown was particularly appreciative, and at
length in a paroxysm of mirth narrowly escaped sitting down on the
tortoise.

Black Billy's harness was not extensive. He tied a string round the
black Orpington's leg, and retired to the stable for a few minutes,
returning with a bulging pocket, the contents of which he did not
communicate. Hogg did not attempt to bit and bridle the yellow cat,
which was much annoyed at the whole proceeding. Instead he fixed up a
collar and traces of string, and chose a long cane, more, he said, for
purposes of defence than for anything else. Lee Wing and Jim harnessed
their steeds in the same way--with a long string tied to each leg.

"All ready?" Jim queried. "Toe the line!"

The course was across a small paddock near the house--a distance of
about thirty yards--and the competitors were ranged up with no little
difficulty. Luckily, the line was a wide one, admitting of considerable
space between each starter, or the send-off might have been inextricably
confused. However, they were all arranged at last, and Jim, in a
stentorian voice, gave the word to "Go."

As the signal was given, the drivers urged on their steeds according to
their judgment, and with magnificent results.

First to get off the line were the wallabies and the kangaroo. They
fled, each his several way, and after them went their drivers, in great
haste. The kangaroo had all the best of the start. So remarkable was his
bound that he twitched his reins quite out of Norah's hands, and made
for the fence of the paddock. It was an open one, which let him through
easily. The wallabies, seeing his shining success, followed his course,
and midway managed to entangle their reins, at which Wally and Harry
were wildly hauling. Confusion became disorder, and the wallabies at
length reduced themselves to a tangle, out of which they had to be
assisted by means of Harry's pocket knife.

Jim had no luck. The parrot went off well, but very soon seemed to
regret his rashness and, despite all Jim's endeavours, returned with
solemnity to the start, where he paused and talked fluently in the mixed
language that was all his own. In desperation Jim tried to pull him
along, but Fudge simply walked round and round him, until he had
exhausted his driver's patience, and was "turned out."

The most spirited of the competitors were decidedly the cockatoo and
Tim. They were panting for each other's blood from the start, and before
they had been urged over a quarter of the way they found an opportunity
of warfare, and seized it simultaneously. Then the air grew murky with
sound--cockatoo shrieks, mingled with cat calls and fluent Chinese,
cutting across Hogg's good, broad Scots. Naturally, the strings of the
harness became fatally twisted immediately, and soon the combatants were
bound together with a firmness which not all the efforts of their
drivers could undo. A sudden movement of the pair made Lee Wing spring
back hastily, whereupon he tripped and stumbled violently against Hogg.

Hogg's temper was at vanishing point, and this was the last straw.

"Ye pig-tailed image!" he exclaimed furiously. Drawing back, he aimed a
blow at Lee Wing, which would have effectively put that gentle Mongolian
out of the race had he not dodged quickly. He shouted something in his
own language, which was evidently of no complimentary nature, and hurled
himself like a yellow tornado upon the angry Scotsman. They struck out
at each other with all possible ill-will, but their science was much
impeded by the fact that the cat and cockatoo were fighting fiercely
amongst their legs. Finally Lee Wing tripped over Tim, and sat down
abruptly, receiving as he did so an impassioned peck from Caesar which
elicited from him a loud yell of anguish. Hogg, attempting to follow up
his advantage, was checked suddenly by Jim, who left his parrot to its
own devices, and arrived on the scene at full gallop.

"You are a blessed pair of duffers!" said Jim wrathfully. "Look here, if
father catches you fighting there'll be the most awful row--and I'll be
in it too, what's worse. Clear out, for goodness' sake, before he comes
along, and don't get in each others' road again!" and each nursing
bitterness in his heart, the rival gardeners returned to their
respective beds of roses and onions.

Left to their own devices, the yellow cat and the cockatoo departed
also, in a turmoil of wrath, with fur and feathers flying in equal
proportions. Eventually Tim found discretion the better part of valour
and scurried away to the safe shelter of the kitchen, pursued by Caesar
with loud shrieks of defiance and victory--sounds of joyful triumph
which lasted long after he had regained his perch and been securely
fastened by the leg with his hated chain.

Black Billy, meanwhile, had paid strict attention to business. The
vagaries of wallabies and kangaroo, of cat and parrot and cockatoo, had
no attraction for the dusky leader of the big black Orpington rooster.

The Orpington--Jonah, Norah called him--was not inclined to race. He had
tugged furiously at his leg rope, with much outcry and indignation,
until Billy, finding himself alone, owing to the eccentric behaviour of
the other starters, had resorted to different tactics by no means devoid
of native cunning. Slackening the line, he suddenly produced from his
pocket a few grains of wheat, and spread them temptingly before Jonah.

Now Jonah was a tame bird. He was accustomed to being handled, and had
only been indignant at the disgrace of bonds. This new departure was
something he understood; so he gobbled up the wheat with alacrity and
looked up inquiringly for more.

"Right oh!" said Bffly, retiring a few steps down the track and bringing
out another grain. Jonah sprang after it, and then was dazzled with the
view of two lying yet a few yards farther off. So, feeding and coaxing,
black Billy worked his unsuspecting steed across the little paddock.

No one was near when he reached the winning post, to which he promptly
tied Jonah, and, his purpose being accomplished, and no need of further
bribery being necessary, sat down beside him and meditatively began to
chew the remainder of his wheat. Jonah looked indignant, and poked round
after more grains, an attention which Billy met with jeers and continued
heartless mastication, until the Orpington gave up the quest in digust,
and retired to the limit of his tether. Billy sat quietly, with
steadfast glittering eyes twinkling in his dusky face.

"Hallo!" It was Jim's voice. "Where are all the rest? D'you mean to say
you're the only one to get here?"

Billy grinned silently.

Sounds of mirth floated over the grass, and Norah, Harry and Wally raced
up.

"Where are your mokes?" queried Jim.

"The good knights are dust, Their mokes are rust,"

misquoted Wally cheerfully.

"We don't know, bless you. Cleared out, harness and all. We'll have a
wallaby and kangaroo hunt after this. Who's won?"

"Billy," said Jim, indicating that sable hero. "In a common walk. Fed
him over. All right, now, Billy, you catch-um kangaroo, wallaby--d'you
hear?"

Billy showed a set of amazingly white teeth in a broad grin, and
departed swiftly and silently.

"Where's Lee Wing?"

"Had to tear him off Hogg!" Jim grinned. "You never saw such a shindy.
They've retired in bad order."

"Where's Fudge?"

"Left at the post!"

"Where's Mrs. Brown--and the tortoise?"

"Great Scott!" Jim looked round blankly. "That never occurred to me.
Where is she, I wonder?"

The course was empty.

"Tortoise got away with her!" laughed Wally.

"H'm," said Jim. "We'll track her to her lair."

In her lair--the kitchen--Mrs. Brown was discovered, modestly hiding
behind the door. The tortoise was on the table, apparently cheerful.

"Poor dear pet!" said Mrs. Brown. "He wouldn't run. I don't think he was
awake to the situation, Master Jim, dear, so I just carried him over--I
didn't think it mattered which way I ran--and my scones were in the
oven! They're just out--perhaps you'd all try them?"--this
insinuatingly. "I don't think this tortoise comes of a racing
family!"--and the great menagerie race concluded happily in the kitchen
in what Wally called "a hot buttered orgy."

CHAPTER IV

JIM'S IDEA

Two hammocks, side by side, under a huge pine tree, swung lazily to and
fro in the evening breeze. In them Norah and Harry rocked happily, too
comfortable, as Norah said, to talk. They had all been out riding most
of the day, and were happily tired. Tea had been discussed fully, and
everything was exceedingly peaceful.

Footsteps at racing speed sounded far off on the gravel of the front
path--a wide sweep that ran round the broad lawn. There was a scatter of
stones, and then a thud-thud over the grass to the pine trees--sounds
that signalised the arrival of Jim and Wally, in much haste. Jim's hurry
was so excessive that he could not pull himself up in time to avoid
Harry. He bumped violently into the hammock, with the natural result
that Harry swung sharply against Norah, and for a moment things were
rather mixed.

"You duffer!" growled Harry, steadying his rocking bed. "Hurt you?
"--this to Norah.

"No, thanks," Norah laughed. "What's the matter with you two?"

"Got an idea," Wally gasped, fanning himself with a pine cone.

"Hurt you?"

"Rather. It's always a shock for me to have an idea. Anyway this isn't
mine--it's Jim's."

"Oh." Norah's tone was more respectful. Jim's ideas were not to be
treated lightly as a rule. "Well, let's hear it."

"Fishing," Jim said laconically. "Let's start out at the very daybreak,
and get up the river to Anglers' Bend. They say you can always get fish
there. We'll ride, and take Billy to carry the tucker and look for bait.
Spend the whole blessed day, and come home with the mopokes. What do you
chaps say?"

"Grand idea!" Norah cried, giving her hammock an ecstatic swing. "We'll
have to fly round, though. Did you ask Dad?"

"Yes, and he said we could go. It's tucker that's the trouble. I don't
know if we're too late to arrange about any."

"Come and ask Mrs. Brown," said Norah, flinging a pair of long black
legs over the edge of the hammock. "She'll fix us up if she can."

They tore off to the kitchen and arrived panting. Mrs. Brown was sitting
in calm state on the kitchen verandah, and greeted them with a wide,
expansive smile. Norah explained their need.

Mrs. Brown pursed up her lips.

"I haven't anythink fancy, my dear," she said slowly. "Only plum cake
and scones, and there's a nice cold tongue, and an apple pie. I'd like
you to have tarts, but the fire's out. Do you think you could manage?"

Jim laughed.

"I guess that'll do, Mrs. Brown," he said. "We'll live like fighting
cocks, and bring you home any amount of fish for breakfast. Don't you
worry about sandwiches, either--put in a loaf or two of bread, and a
chunk of butter, and we'll be right as rain."

"Then I'll have it all packed for you first thing, Master Jim," Mrs.
Brown declared.

"That's ripping," said the boys in a breath. "Come and find Billy."

Billy was dragged from the recesses of the stable. He grinned widely
with joy at the prospect of the picnic.

"All the ponies ready at five, Billy," ordered Jim. "Yours too. We're
going to make a day of it--and we'll want bait. Now, you chaps, come
along and get lines and hooks ready!"

* * * * *

"Whirr-r-r!"

The alarm clock by Jim's bedside shrieked suddenly in the first hint of
daylight, and Jim sprang from his pillow with the alertness of a
Jack-in-the-box, and grabbed the clock, to stop its further eloquence.
He sat down on the edge of his bed, and yawned tremendously. At the
other side of the room Harry slept peacefully. Nearer Wally's black eyes
twinkled for a moment, and hurriedly closed, apparently in deep slumber.
He snored softly.

"Fraud!" said Jim, with emphasis. He seized his pillow, and hurled it
vigorously. It caught Wally on the face and stayed there, and beneath
its shelter the victim still snored on serenely.

Jim rose with deliberation and, seizing the bedclothes, gave a judicious
pull, which ended in Wally's suddenly finding himself on the floor. He
clasped wildly at the blankets, but they were dragged from his reluctant
grasp. Jim's toe stirred him gently and at length he rose.

"Beast!" he said miserably. "What on earth's the good of getting up at
this hour?"

"Got to make an early start," replied his host. "Come and stir up old
Harry."

Harry was noted as a sleeper. Pillows hurled on top of him were as
nought. The bedclothes were removed, but he turned on his side and
slumbered like a little child.

"And to think," Wally said, "that that chap springs up madly when the
getting-up bell rings once at school!"

"School was never like this," Jim grinned. "There's the squirt, Wal."

The squirt was there; so was the jug of water, and a moment sufficed to
charge the weapon. The nozzle was gently inserted into the sleeper's
pyjama collar, and in a moment the drenched and wrathful hero arose
majestically from his watery pillow and, seizing his tormentors, banged
their heads together with great effort.

"You're slow to wake, but no end of a terror when once you rouse up,"
said Wally, ruefully rubbing his pate.

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