Edgar Foster, after six months’ experience on Yanda Station, liked the life very much. He was popular with the hands, and Ben Brody had taken to him in a manner that caused men to marvel1. It was seldom Brody made a chum of anyone, but he had done so of Edgar, who was young enough to be his son.
It was an intense relief to Edgar when he received letters from his father and sister. They were letters such as might have been expected from them, and the way in which they referred to the terrible loss of the Distant Shore brought tears into Edgar’s eyes. His father enclosed him a draft, and said he was proud of his son, and knew he had risked his life to save Captain Manton’s child. Inquiries2 had been made in every direction, but no relations had been found to claim little Eva. Captain Manton had not saved much money, and what he had was in the hands of the shipping3 company to which the Distant Shore belonged.
Robert Foster wrote that he had consulted the chairman of the company, and it had been arranged that if no relation claimed Eva she was to remain in charge of Wal Jessop and his wife, and a sum of money would be paid annually4 to them. In concluding his letter Robert Foster gave his son good advice, telling him to go on as he had commenced, and to brave dangers if by doing so he could help others.
Doris Foster wrote Edgar a loving letter, in which she gave him the news that Will Brown had sailed for Australia, and also that she had heard Raymond Rakes had turned out badly, and been sent to sea:
‘Will has promised to try and make a small fortune in Australia,’ she wrote, ‘and when he has done so he is to return to England and ask me a certain question which I leave you to guess. Please do not tell him, if you see him, that under any circumstances the answer will be “Yes.” It might make him lazy if he knew the capture was certain. You are a dear, noble, brave brother, and we are very proud of you. I am posting you a Graphic5. You will see therein a portrait of a certain young fellow who is styled “The Distant Shore Hero,” which is no more than he deserves. Give little Eva a lot of kisses from me. I long to see the child you saved so splendidly. I am sure Wal Jessop must be a grand man, and his wife a dear, good woman. Please do not marry a black lady, and come home as civilized7 as when you left.’
Edgar read these letters again and again until Ben Brody said:
‘You are a lucky beggar to have such interesting letters. Those I get are never worth reading twice. They’re mostly about sheep, and the price of wool, and you cannot knock much romance out of those articles.’
Before he had been at Yanda a month, Edgar had shown them how he could bat, and also use his fists; and, much to Will Henton’s surprise, he had found his match with the gloves on.
‘You’re a hard hitter,’ he said to Edgar; ‘no wonder you made Bully8 Rakes sing small.’
Edgar related many tales about his schooldays, and worked the hands up to a pitch of enthusiasm over the celebrated9 match with Fairfield.
‘Blest if I don’t feel as though I’d seen it!’ said Ben Brody.
‘Good yarn10!’ exclaimed Jim Lee, the silent one.
‘What a brute11 that Rakes must be,’ said Will Henton. ‘Fancy a fellow going against his own side. You say he’s gone to sea? I hope he won’t come over here; we want none of his sort.’
‘I’d like to meet Will Brown,’ said Ben Brody. ‘Suppose you ask him to come up here and try his luck? He’ll not make a fortune very quick, but it will keep him out of mischief12.’
‘I’ll write to his ship in Sydney when she arrives, and ask him,’ said Edgar; ‘I think it would just suit him.’
‘We can always find room for an extra hand or two on Yanda,’ said Brody, with a wink13, ‘provided they’re the right sort.’
‘You’ll find Will all right,’ said Edgar.
‘If he comes up to your standard he’ll do,’ replied Brody.
There was not much variety in the life at Yanda, but it was new to Edgar, and he found much to interest him. He had the usual experience with a buck-jumper, and felt the peculiar14 sensation of being hurled15 into the air, with no certainty as to where he would come down. This is how Edgar described his first throw from a buck-jumper to his father:
‘You suddenly feel his back arch, and it nearly cuts you in two. Then you discover he has all four legs off the ground at the same time. Finally you are shot into space, much in the same way as you would go if a gigantic catapult propelled you. The sensation is not pleasant, and the knowledge that all your mates are enjoying the undignified manner in which you are unseated adds to the general discomfiture16. However, I am a fair rough-rider now, although there’s one horse—“Brody’s buck-jumper,” he’s called—I cannot tackle, and no other man on the place with the exception of Brody himself. There’s a history attached to this animal which you may hear some day. Brody once got him into a horse-box, I believe, and the passengers on the train sent a deputation to the guard at the first stopping-place to have the horse removed. Someone suggested the animal ought to be shot, but Brody’s wrath17 was so great when he heard this that no further mention was made of it. Anyhow, Brody’s buck-jumper had his own way, as he always has, for the remainder of the journey.’
Yacka the black had taken to Edgar Foster from the moment he took his hand, and during the six months that had passed he was constantly about the homestead asking what he could do for him.
‘Bless me if I don’t think you’ll civilize6 Yacka in time!’ said Brody. ‘I never knew him come round here so much before. It’s all that hand............