III
Tom and Jack were to leave the next day. The girls brought out a lot of stores from the cupboard, and blankets and billies and a lantern. They packed the sacks standing there.
“Get y’ swag f’y’selves,” said Dad. “The men have everything for themselves. Take an axe an’ a gun apiece.”
“Gun! Gee! K’n I go, Dad?”
“Shut up, Len. Destroy all the dingoes y’ can. I’ll give y’ sixpence a head, an’ the Government gives another. Haven’t y’ a saddle, Jack Grant, somewhere in a box? Because I’d be short of one off the place, if you took one from here.”
“It must be somewhere,” said Jack.
“Get it unpacked. An’ you can have Lucy to put it across. It’s forty mile from here to virgin forest: real forest. If you get strayed, ever, all you have to do is to drop th’ reins on Lucy’s neck, ’n shell bring y’ in.”
The saddle came out of the dusty box. All were there in a circle to look on. Jack expected deep admiration. But he was hurt to feel Monica laughing derisively. Everybody was laughing, but he minded Monica most. She could jeer cruelly.
“Jolly good saddle,” said Jack.
“Mighty little of it,” said Len.
“What’s wrong with it, Tom?” said Jack.
“Slithery. No knee-pads, saddle bags, strap holder, scooped seat, or any sortta comfort. It’s a whale, on the wrong side.”
Lennie closely examined the London ticket. The unpacking continued in silence, under Tom’s majestic eye. Whip, yellow horse-rug, bridle, leathers, a heavy bar bit with double rings and curb, saddle cloths, reins, extra special blue-and-gold girths wrapped in tissue paper, nickel cross rowell jockey spurs, and glittering steel stirrup-irons. Cord breeches, Assam silk coat, white water-proof linen stocks, leather gaiters, and a pair of leather gauntlets completed the amazing disclosure. It was all a mighty gift from one of the unforgiven Aunts.
Half way through the unpacking Tom gave a groan and walked away; but walked back. Og and Magog stole the saddle, slung it across a bar, and slid off and on rapturously. Monica was laughing at him disagreeably: strange and brutal, as if she hated him: rather like Easu. And Lennie was tittering with joy.
“Oh, Og! Here! Y’re missin’ it. Leave that hog’s back saddle, No. 1 Grade—picked material—hand forged—tree mounted, guaranteed—a topper off; see this princess palfrey bridle for you, rosettes ornamented, periwinkle an’ all. An’ oh, look you! a canary belly-band f’r Dada t’strap round th’ heifer’s neck when she gets first prize at the Royal York show. Look at that crush-bone cage to put round Stampede’s mouth when the niggers catches him again. Oh, Lor’ oh my——”
“Shut up!” said Tom abruptly, catching the boy by the back of his pants and tossing him out of the barn. “Now roll up y’r bluey”—meaning the new rug, which was yellow. “Fix them stirrup leathers, take the bridle off that bit an’ we’ll find you something decent to put the reins on. An’ kick th’ rest t’gether. What a gear. Glad it’s you, not me, as has got to ride that leather, me boy. But ride on’t y’ll have to, for there’s nought else. Now, Monica, close down that mirth of yours. You’re not asked for it.”
“Let brotherly love continue,” said Monica spitefully. “Wonder if it will, even unto camp.”
She went, leaving Jack feeling suddenly tired.