Page 67 - A Little Bush Maid

Billy grinned. He was a youth of few words.

"Plenty bob-um float," he explained lucidly. "Easy ’nuff. You try."

"No, thanks," said Norah, though she hesitated for a moment. "T’m sick of
trying--and T’ve no luck. Going to cook ’em for dinner, Billy?"

"Plenty!" assented Billy vigorously. Tt was his favourite word, and meant
almost anything, and he rarely used another when he could make it suffice.

"That’s a good boy," said Norah, approvingly, and black eighteen grinned
from ear to ear with pleasure at the praise of twelve-year-old white. "T’m

going for a walk, Billy. Tell Master Jim to coo-ee when lunch is ready."

"Plenty," said Billy intelligently.

Norah turned from the creek and entered the scrub. She loved the bush, and

was never happier than when exploring its recesses. A born bushmaid, she
had never any difficulty about finding her way in the scrub, or of retracing

her steps. The faculty of bushmanship must be born in you; if you have it
not naturally, training very rarely gives it.

She rambled on aimlessly, noting, though scarcely conscious that she did
so, the bush sights and scenes on either hand--clinging creepers and twining

plants, dainty ferns, nestling in hollow trees, clusters of maidenhair under
logs; pheasants that hopped noiselessly in the shade, and a wallaby track in
some moist, soft earth. Once she saw a carpet snake lying coiled in a

tussock and, springing for a stick, she ran at it, but the snake was too quick
for her and she was only in time to hit at its tail as it whisked down a hole.

Norah wandered on, feeling disgusted with herself.

Suddenly she stopped in amazement.

She was on the edge of a small clear space, at the farther side of which was

a huge blue-gum tree. Tall trees ringed it round, and the whole space was in
deep shade. Norah stood rooted to the ground in surprise.