Page 84 - A Little Bush Maid

"However d’you find your way along here?" he asked. "T don’t even know
whether we’re near the creek or not."

"Tf we kept still a moment you’d know," the Hermit said. "Listen!" He held

up his hand and they all stood still. There came faintly to their ears a
musical splash of water.

"There’s a little waterfall just in there," the Hermit said, "nothing much,
unless the creek is very low, and then there is a greater drop for the water.

So you see we haven’t got far from the creek. How do T know the way?
Why, T feel it mostly, and if T couldn’t feel it, there are plenty of landmarks.
Every big tree is as good as a signpost once you know the way a bit, and

T’ve been along here pretty often, so there’s nothing in it, you see, Wally."

"Do you like the bush, Mr. Hermit?" Norah asked.

The Hermit hesitated.

"Sometimes T hate it, T think, Miss Norah," he said, "when the loneliness of

it comes over me, and all the queer sounds of it bother me and keep me
awake. Then T realise that T’m really a good way from anywhere, and T get
what are familiarly called the blues. However, that’s not at all times, and

indeed mostly T love it very much, its great quietness and its beauty; and
then it’s so companionable, though perhaps you’re a bit young to understand

that. Anyhow, T have my mates, not only old Turpentine, my snake, but
others--wallabies that have come to recognise me as harmless, for T never
hunt anywhere near home, the laughing jackasses, two of them, that come

and guffaw to me every morning, the pheasants that T watch capering and
strutting on the logs hidden in the scrub. Even the plants become friends;

there are creepers near my camp that T’ve watched from babyhood, and
more than one big tree with which T’ve at least a nodding acquaintance!"

He broke off suddenly.

"Look, there’s a friend of mine!" he said gently. They were crossing a little
gully, and a few yards on their right a big wallaby sat staring at them,