Over the Sliprails | Page 4

and neck and hands, and our feet grew as big as
camel's, and went dead, and we might as well have stamped the
footboards with wooden legs for all the feeling we got into ours. But
they were more comfortable that way, for the toes didn't curl up and
pain so much, nor did our corns stick out so hard against the leather,
and shoot.
We looked out eagerly for some clearing, or fence, or light -- some sign
of the shanty where we were to change horses -- but there was nothing
save blackness all round. The long, straight, cleared road was no longer
relieved by the ghostly patch of light, far ahead, where the bordering
tree-walls came together in perspective and framed the ether. We were
down in the bed of the bush.
We pictured a haven of rest with a suspended lamp burning in the
frosty air outside and a big log fire in a cosy parlour off the bar, and a
long table set for supper. But this is a land of contradictions; wayside
shanties turn up unexpectedly and in the most unreasonable places, and
are, as likely as not, prepared for a banquet when you are not hungry
and can't wait, and as cold and dark as a bushman's grave when you are
and can.
Suddenly the driver said: "We're there now." He said this as if he had
driven us to the scaffold to be hanged, and was fiercely glad that he'd
got us there safely at last. We looked but saw nothing; then a light
appeared ahead and seemed to come towards us; and presently we saw
that it was a lantern held up by a man in a slouch hat, with a dark bushy
beard, and a three-bushel bag around his shoulders. He held up his
other hand, and said something to the driver in a tone that might have
been used by the leader of a search party who had just found the body.
The driver stopped and then went on slowly.

"What's up?" we asked. "What's the trouble?"
"Oh, it's all right," said the driver.
"The publican's wife is sick," somebody said, "and he wants us to come
quietly."
The usual little slab and bark shanty was suggested in the gloom, with a
big bark stable looming in the background. We climbed down like so
many cripples. As soon as we began to feel our legs and be sure we had
the right ones and the proper allowance of feet, we helped, as quietly as
possible, to take the horses out and round to the stable.
"Is she very bad?" we asked the publican, showing as much concern as
we could.
"Yes," he said, in a subdued voice of a rough man who had spent
several anxious, sleepless nights by the sick bed of a dear one. "But,
God willing, I think we'll pull her through."
Thus encouraged we said, sympathetically: "We're very sorry to trouble
you, but I suppose we could manage to get a drink and a bit to eat?"
"Well," he said, "there's nothing to eat in the house, and I've only got
rum and milk. You can have that if you like."
One of the pilgrims broke out here.
"Well of all the pubs," he began, "that I've ever --"
"Hush-sh-sh!" said the publican.
The pilgrim scowled and retired to the rear. You can't express your
feelings freely when there's a woman dying close handy.
"Well, who says rum and milk?" asked the joker, in a low voice.
"Wait here," said the publican, and disappeared into the little front
passage.
Presently a light showed through a window, with a scratched and
fly-bitten B and A on two panes, and a mutilated R on the third, which
was broken. A door opened, and we sneaked into the bar. It was like
having drinks after hours where the police are strict and independent.
When we came out the driver was scratching his head and looking at
the harness on the verandah floor.
"You fellows 'll have ter put in the time for an hour or so. The horses is
out back somewheres," and he indicated the interior of Australia with a
side jerk of his head, "and the boy ain't back with 'em yet."
"But dash it all," said the Pilgrim, "me and my mate ----"
"Hush!" said the publican.

"How long are the horses likely to be?" we asked the driver.
"Dunno," he grunted. "Might be three or four hours. It's all accordin'."
"Now, look here," said the Pilgrim, "me and my mate wanter catch the
train."
"Hush-sh-sh!" from the publican in a fierce whisper.
"Well, boss," said the joker, "can you let us have beds, then? I don't
want to freeze here all night, anyway."
"Yes," said the