“Coming,” said Harry's cheerful voice. He appeared on the verandah, endeavouring to cram2 a gigantic apple into his pocket.
“Norah's,” he said, in response to Jim's lifted eyebrows3. “Don't know if she means to eat it in sections or not—it certainly doesn't mean to go into my pocket as it is.” He desisted from his efforts. “Try it in the crown of your hat, old man.”
“Thanks—my hat's got all it knows to hold my brains,” retorted Jim. “You can't take that thing. Here, Norah,” as that damsel appeared on the step, “how do you imagine Harry's going to cart this apple?”
“Quite simple,” said Norah airily. “Cut it in four, and we'll each take a bit.”
“That's the judgment4 of Solomon,” said Wally, who was lying full length on the lawn—recovering, as Jim unkindly suggested, from dinner.
“Well, come along,” Jim said impatiently—“you're an awfully6 hard crowd to get started. We want to reach the falls in fair time, to see the sunlight on them—it's awfully pretty. After about three or four o'clock the trees shade the water, and it's quite ordinary.”
“Just plain, wet water,” murmured Wally. Jim rolled him over and over down the sloping lawn, and then fled, pursued by Wally with dishevelled attire8 and much grass in his mouth. The others followed more steadily9, and all four struck across the paddock to the creek10.
It was a rather hot afternoon, and they were glad to reach the shade of the bank and to follow the cattle track that led close to the water. Great fat bullocks lay about under the huge gum trees, scarcely raising their eyes to glance at the children as they passed; none were eating, all were chewing the cud in lazy contentment. They passed through a smaller paddock where superb sheep dotted the grass—real aristocrats11 these, accustomed to be handled and petted, and to live on the fat of the land—poor grass or rough country food they had never known. Jim and Norah visited some special favourites, and patted them. Harry and Wally admired at a distance.
“Those some of the sheep you saved from the fire?” queried12 Harry.
Norah flushed.
“Never did,” she said shortly, and untruthfully. “Don't know why you can't talk sense, Jim!”—at which that maligned13 youth laughed excessively, until first the other boys, and then Norah, joined in, perforce.
After again climbing over the sheep-proof fence of the smaller paddock they came out upon a wide plain, almost treeless, save for the timber along the creek, where their cattle track still led them. Far as they could see no fence broke the line of yellow grass. There were groups of cattle out on the plain. These were store bullocks, Jim explained, a draft recently arrived from Queensland, and hardly yet acclimatised.
“It takes a good while for them to settle down,” Norah said, “and then lots of 'em get sick—pleuro and things; and we inoculate14 them, and their tails drop off, and sometimes the sick ones get bad-tempered15, and it's quite exciting work mustering16.”
“Dangerous?” asked Wally.
“Not with a pony17 that knows things like Bobs,” said Bobs' mistress. “He always keeps his weather eye open for danger.”
“Not a bad thing, as you certainly don't,” laughed Jim.
“Well—do you?”
“Certainly I do,” said Jim firmly, whereat Norah laughed very heartily18.
“When I leave school, Dad says I can go on the roads with the cattle for one trip,” said Jim. “Be no end of fun—takes ever so long to bring them down from Queensland, and the men have a real good time—travel with a cook, and a covered buggy and pair to bring the tucker and tents along.”
“What'll you be?” asked Wally—“cook?”
“No, slushy,” said Harry.
“No, I'll take you two chaps along in those billets,” grinned Jim.
“I don't know who'd be cook,” said Norah solemnly; “but I don't think the men would be in very good condition at the end of the trip, whichever of you it was!”
With such pleasantries they beguiled19 the way, until, on rounding a bend in the track, a dull roar came plainly to their ears.
“What's that?” asked Wally, stopping to listen.
“That's the falls, my boy,” replied Jim. “They're really quite respectable falls—almost Niagarous! Come along, we'll see them in a couple of minutes.”
The sound of falling water became plainer and plainer as they pushed on. At this point the track was less defined and the scrub thicker—Jim explained that the cattle did not come here much, as there was no drinking-place for them for a good distance below the falls. They might almost have imagined themselves back in the bush near the Hermit's camp, Harry said, as they pushed their way through scrub and undergrowth, many raspberry vines adding variety, if not charm, to the scramble20. The last part of the walk was up bill, and at length they came out upon a clearer patch of ground.
For some time the noise of the falls had deepened, until now it was a loud roar; but the sound had hardly prepared the boys for the sight that met their gaze. High up were rocky cliffs, sparsely21 clothed with vegetation, and through these the creek had cut its way, falling in one sheer mass, fifty feet or more, into the bed below, hollowed out by it during countless22 ages. The water curved over the top of the fall in one exquisite23 wave, smooth as polished marble, but half-way down a point of rock jutted24 suddenly out, and on this the waters dashed and split, flying off from it in a cloud of spray. At the foot the cataract25 roared and bubbled and seethed26 in one boiling mass of rapids.
But the glory of it all was the sunlight. It fell right on the mass of descending27 water; and in the rays the fall glittered and flashed with all the colours of the rainbow, and the flying spray was like powdered jewels. It caught the drops hanging on the ferns that fringed the water, and turned them into twinkling diamonds. The whole fall seemed to be alive in the sunbeams' dancing light.
“Oh-h, I say,” whispered Harry. “Fancy never showing us this before!” He cast himself on the ground and lay, chin in hands, gazing at the wonder before him.
“We kept it to the last,” said Norah softly. She sat down by him and the others followed their example.
“Just think,” said Harry, “that old creek's been doing that ever since time began—every day the sun comes to take his share at lighting28 it up, long before we were born, and ages after we shall die! Doesn't it make you feel small!”
Norah nodded understandingly. “I saw it once by moonlight,” she said. “Dad and I rode here one night—full moon. Oh, it was lovely! Not like this, of course, because there wasn't any colour—but a beautiful white, clean light, and the fall was like a sheet of silver.”
“Did you ever throw anything over?” asked Wally. His wonderment was subsiding29 and the boy in him woke up again.
“No good,” said Jim. “You never see it again. I've thrown a stick in up above, and it simply whisks over and gets sucked underneath30 the curtain of water at once, and disappears altogether until it reaches the smooth water, ever so far down.”
“Say you went over yourself?”
“Wouldn't be much left of you,” Jim answered, with a laugh. “The bed of the creek's simply full of rocks—you can see a spike31 sticking up here and there in the rapids. We've seen sheep come down in flood-time—they get battered32 to bits. I don't think I'll try any experiments, thank you, young Wally.”
“You always were a disobliging critter,” Wally grinned.
“Another time a canoe came over,” Jim said. “It belonged to two chaps farther up—they'd just built it, and were out for the first time, and got down too near the falls. They didn't know much about managing their craft, and when the suck of the water began to take them along they couldn't get out of the current. They went faster and faster, struggling to paddle against the stream, instead of getting out at an angle and making for the bank—which they might have done. At last they could hear the roar of the falls quite plainly.”
“What happened to them?” asked Wally. “Did they go over?”
“Well, they reckoned it wasn't healthy to remain in the canoe,” said Jim. “It was simply spinning along in the current, and the falls were almost in sight. So they dived in, on opposite sides—the blessed canoe nearly tipped over when they stood up, and only the shock of the cross drive kept her right. Of course the creek's not so very wide, even farther up beyond the falls, and the force of their spring sent them nearly out of the current. They could both swim well, and after a struggle they got to the banks, just in time to see the canoe whisk over the waterfall!”
“What hard luck!”
“It was rather. They started off down-stream to find it, but for a long way they couldn't see a trace. Then, right in the calm water, ever so far down, they found it—bit by bit. It was broken into so much matchwood!”
“What did they do?” asked Wally.
“Stood and stared at it from opposite sides, like two wet images,” said Jim, laughing. “It's lowdown to grin, I suppose, but they must have looked funny. Then one of them swam across and they made their way to our place, and we fixed33 them up with dry things and drove them home. I don't think they've gone in for canoeing since!” finished Jim reflectively.
“Well, I guess it would discourage them a bit,” Wally agreed. “Getting shipwrecked's no fun.”
“Ever tried it?”
“Once—in Albert Park Lagoon,” Wally admitted bashfully. “Some of us went out for a sail one Saturday afternoon. We didn't know much about it, and I really don't know what it was that tipped the old boat over. I was the smallest, so naturally I wasn't having any say in managing her.”
“That accounts for it,” said Jim dryly.
“Didn't mean that—goat!” said Wally. “Anyhow, I was very much astonished to find myself suddenly kicking in the mud. Ever been in that lake? It isn't nice. It isn't deep enough to drown you, but the mud is a caution. I got it all over me—face and all!”
“You must have looked your best!” said Jim.
“I did. I managed to stand up, very much amazed to find I wasn't drowned. Two of the others walked out! I was too small to do more than just manage to keep upright. The water was round my chest. I couldn't have walked a yard.”
“How did you manage?”
“A boat came along and picked up the survivors,” grinned Wally. “They wouldn't take us in. We were just caked with mud, so I don't blame 'em—but we hung on to the stern, and they towed us to the shore. We were quite close to land. Then they went back and brought our boat to us. They were jolly kind chaps—didn't seem to mind any trouble.”
“You don't seem to have minded it, either,” said Norah.
“We were too busy laughing,” Wally said. “You have to expect these things when you go in for a life on the ocean wave. The worst part of it came afterwards, when we went home. That was really unpleasant. I was staying at my aunt's in Toorak.”
“Did you get into a row?”
“It was unpleasant,” Wally repeated. “Aunts haven't much sympathy, you know. They don't like mess, and I was no end messy. We won't talk about it, I think, thank you.” Wally rolled over on his back, produced an apple and bit into it solemnly.
“Let us respect his silence,” said Jim.
“You had aunts too?” queried Wally, with his mouth full.
“Not exactly aunts,” Jim said. “But we had an old Tartar of a housekeeper34 once, when we were small kids. She ruled us with a rod of iron for about six months, and Norah and I could hardly call our souls our own. Father used to be a good deal away and Mrs. Lister could do pretty well as she liked.”
“I did
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