THE DROVER'S WIFE
Ⅱ
IT must be near two o'clock. The fire is burning low. Alligator lies with his head resting on his paws, and watches the wall. He is not a handsome dog, but the light shows numerous old wounds where the hair will not grow, for he is afraid of nothing. He hates snakes, and has killed many, but he will be bitten some day. Most snake-killing dogs come to their end in that way.
Now and then, the bush woman lays down her work, and watches, and listens, and thinks. She has few pleasures to think of as she sits alone by the fire, on guard against a snake. All days are much the same to her; but, on Sunday afternoons, she dresses herself in her best, tidies the children, smartens up the baby, and goes for a walk along the bush-track, pushing an old perambulator in front of her. She does this every Sunday. There is nothing to see, however, and not a soul to meet. You might walk for twenty miles along this track without being able to fix a point in your mind, unless you were a bushman. This is because of the everlasting maddening sameness of the stunted trees. But the dover's wife is used to the loneliness of it.
* * * * * *
It must be near morning now. Her candle is nearly done; she forgot that she was out of candles. More wood must be got to keep the fire up, and so she shuts the dog inside, and hurries round to the wood-heap. The rain has cleared off. She seizes a stick, pulls it out, and—crash! the whole pile collapses [1] .
Yesterday she bargained with a blackfellow to bring her some wood, and, while he was at work, went in search of a missing cow. She was absent an hour or so, and the black made good use of his time. On her return, she was so astonished to see a big heap of wood by the chimney that she gave him an extra fig of tobacco, and praised him for not being lazy. He thanked her, and left with head erect and chest well out. He was the last of his tribe, and a king! but he had built that wood-heap hollow. She is hurt now, and tears spring to her eyes as she sits down again by the table.
* * * * * *
It is near daylight now. The fire has made the room very warm. Alligator still patiently watches the wall. Suddenly, he becomes greatly interested; he draws himself a few inches nearer the partition [2] ; and a thrill runs through his body. The hair on the back of his neck begins to bristle; and the battle-light is in his yellow eyes. She knows what these signs mean, and lays her hand on the stick.
The lower end of one of the partition slabs has a large crack on both sides. An evil pair of small, bead-like eyes glisten at one of these holes. The snake—a black one—comes slowly out, about a foot, and moves its head up and down. The dog lies still; and the woman sits as one fascinated. The snake comes out a foot farther. She lifts her stick; and the reptile, as though suddenly aware of danger, sticks his head in through the crack on the other side of the slab, and hurries to get his tail round after him. Alligator springs, and his jaws come together with a snap. He misses, for his nose is large, and the snake's body close down in the angle formed by the slab and the floor. He snaps again as the tail comes round. He is successful this time, and pulls it out eighteen inches. Thud, thud, comes the woman's stick on the ground. Alligator pulls again. Thud, thud. Alligator pulls once more. He has the snake out now—a black brute, five feet long. The head rises to dart about, but the dog has seized his enemy close to the neck, and shakes it with all his strength. Tommy wakes up, seizes his stick, and tries to get out of bed, but his mother forces him back with a grip of iron. Thud, thud—the snake's back is broken in several places. Thud, thud—its head is crushed.
The woman lifts the mangled reptile on the point of her stick, carries it to the fire, and throws it in; then piles on the wood, and watches the snake burn. The boy and dog watch, too. She lays her hand on the dog's head, and all the fierce, angry light dies out of his yellow eyes. The younger children are quieted, and presently go to sleep. As Tommy stands by the fire, he looks up at his mother, and, seeing the tears in her eyes, throws his arms round her neck, and exclaims: "Mother, I never will go droving; no, I never will."
And she hugs him to her bosom, and kisses him; and thus they sit together while the sickly daylight breaks over the bush.
Abridged from While the Billy Boils, by H ENRY L AWSON
* * *
[1 ] collapses: Breaks down; fails in.
[2 ] partition: A wall between rooms.
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