Boyd Cable - By Blow and Kiss

“It won’t be any Platonic friendship basis then. Tell you what, I’ll start off by warning her that I’m an unmitigated blackguard, and that I have an infallible weakness for falling in love with every pretty girl I meet. And if I show any signs of the disease with her, will she please kindly bump me over the head with a half brick and chase me off the scenery. How’ll that do?”

“You might try it,” said Aleck Gault, reflectively. “Will you let me come along and rub in the warning of your character?”

“Surely,” assented Steve; “and we’ll refer her to Scottie, and each individual of the crowd for confirmation.”

“I think it’s likely you’ll be late at that,” said Aleck, drily. “She’ll have had it already.”

And in view of what he had just said, it was unreasonable of Steve Knight to feel annoyed because it might be so.

“Steve,” said Scottie next morning, before they started work in the mulga paddocks, “we’re tae camp here for a few days. Ride back t’ the Ridge, will ye, an’ bring Ess back in the buggy. Bring the six b’ eight tent, and tell Blazes to bring the cart wi’ blankets an’ tucker for the men.”

So Steve dropped his axe and flung the saddle back on his horse, and in ten minutes was cantering hard across the flats under the scorching sun. “Wonder why Scottie picked me to come,” he thought. “Won’t the others be mad?” and he chuckled in high spirits.

As he came over the rise of the road to the plateau he saw Ess Lincoln and Blazes at the cook-house door. Steve came down the slope with a rush, lifted his horse and leaped the gate with a ringing whoop, and pulled his horse to its haunches within a couple of yards of the astonished pair.

“Orders, Miss Lincoln,” he said gaily. “Pack up and move. Sling together any things you need for a week’s camp-out, and get ready to come back with me in the buggy. And, Blazes, I’ll help you meantime to load the cart – blankets, tucker, and the rest – and you’re to drive it down.”

“Camp where – what for?” asked Ess in astonishment.

“In the mulga paddocks,” said Steve. “Boss was over this morning, and gave the order. I’ve been expecting it myself for days. It’s rather senseless riding up and down here every day.”

“But I never camped in my life,” said Ess; “I don’t know a thing about it. What do I wear – what do I take – how do I sleep? Couldn’t I stop here?”

Steve laughed out. “You can’t be a real out-backer till you’ve boiled your billy over a camp fire,” he declared. “I suppose it sounds very peremptory and offhand to you, but there’s nothing in it really. You’ll get used to it in no time, and will learn to roll your swag and hit the track for a camping trip with less bother than you have now to get your dinner ready.”

“It’s all very well,” broke in Blazes, angrily. “But here’s me wi’ the spuds peeled, and half the things ready for cookin’, an’ – ”

“Blazes,” said Steve, gravely, “I’m surprised at you grumbling at a little thing like that. And if Miss Lincoln hears an old battler like you grumbling about going to camp she’ll think it is something serious. I thought you’d have told her she could count on you to pull her through,” he said, reproachfully.

“Why, so she can,” said Blazes, eagerly. “You’ll be all right, Miss, don’t you worry none. I’ll look arter you.”

“Now, if you’ll get your things together, Miss Lincoln,” said Steve, “Blazes and I will have the cart loaded in no time. We have a light tent for you. You don’t have to trouble about anything except your own personal stuff. That’s simple, isn’t it?”

He turned to the men’s bunk-house. “Come on, Blazes; you dig out the provisions and I’ll get the men’s blankets and things.”

An hour later Ess was staring helplessly at the chaos in her room when she heard a cheery shout of “Tea-oh!” and going to the window saw the cart loaded, and the buggy standing ready beside it.

She heard a knock at the door and Steve’s voice.

“All ready, Miss Lincoln? Come over to the cook-house and have a cup of tea, and then we’ll be off. Blazes has to get down to get the dinner ready you know, so we must move.”

She came out to the door. “I’m in an awful fix,” she said. “There seems so many things I might want, and the only box I have seems too big to load on the buggy.”

“Box?” said Steve, opening his eyes. “It’s too bad of me, though,” he said, laughing. “I should have told you more exactly. But come and have some tea, and I’ll give you a load of advice on camping out. Advice is easy to carry, and doesn’t take much room, and ‘travel light’ is the great essential of camp trips.”

They walked across to the cook-house, where Blazes had a meal of cold meat and tea ready for them.

When the hasty meal was finished, “Come on now,” said Steve, jumping up. “It’s high noon, and we must be shoving off. They’ll think we’re lost. Blazey, you push along with the cart, and we’ll catch you before you reach the flat.”

“If you drive, what about your horse?” said Ess, when they came outside, and she noticed Steve’s horse with the saddle still on.

“He’ll follow,” said Steve, easily. “But that reminds me – you ought to have your horse. You’ll miss the fun else. You go and get into riding rig and I’ll bring him in. I’ll tie him back of Blazes’ cart.”

He was into the saddle and off with a rush, and Ess looked at Blazes and laughed ruefully.

“This is the most offhand arrangement I ever met,” she said. “You people seem to expect me to go for a week’s camp as easy as I’d ride down to the gate with you. And what to take and what to leave behind I don’t know a bit.”

“Jest take them things you’ll need,” said Blazes, comfortingly, but vaguely. “Here’s Steve again. He don’t waste time, do he?”

“Now, Blazes, push off,” said Steve, when he had fastened the horse to the tail of the cart with a long leading rope. “And, Miss Lincoln, we’ll get your things.”

Blazes drove off, and the other two walked across to the house.

“Now look here,” said Ess desperately, “you’ll just have to tell me everything I must take.”

“Put on your riding kit,” said Steve. “What you stand in is all you need in the way of clothes, except one change. Dark blouse – water’s scarce, and more like mud than washing water.”

They came to the house, and Steve opened the door and walked in after her.

“Now you go into your own room and change, and I’ll call the things you need, and you can pick ’em out. Don’t waste time, please, Miss Lincoln.”

Ess went meekly to her own room.

“If you’ll give me a couple of blankets, I’ll go and get a spare bit of oilcloth for a ground sheet and roll a swag for you,” called Steve, and in a moment Ess brought out the blankets. Steve ran over to the bunk-house, and came back in a few minutes with a square of American oilcloth. He found Ess waiting dressed in her riding skirt and soft hat.

“Good,” he said, heartily. “We’ll make a campaigner of you in no time. Now go and pick the things I tell you.”

Ess went obediently.

“Got a small dress basket?” said Steve.

“Yes,” came the answer.

“Really small?” persisted Steve.

Ess brought it out.

“Nothing smaller?” he asked, looking at it.

“Only a very small one,” she said meekly, and went and brought it.

“That’ll do,” he said.

“But I’ll never get all my things in that,” declared Ess in dismay.

“Yes, you will,” he said. “Now go and pack. Give me a small cushion or pillow first, though. That’s a luxury, and outside the strict necessaries, but we’ll allow it this time.”