Nearly a dozen other dogs came from round all the corners and under the buildings --spidery,thievish,cold-blooded kangaroo-dogs,mongrel sheep-and cattle-dogs,vicious black and yellow dogs --that slip after you in the dark,nip your heels,and vanish without explaining --and yapping,yelping small fry.
They kept at a respectable distance round the nasty yellow dog,for it was dangerous to go near him when he thought he had found something which might be good for a dog to eat.He sniffed at the cartridge twice,and was just taking a third cautious sniff when --It was very good blasting powder --a new brand that Dave had recently got up from Sydney;and the cartridge had been excellently well made.
Andy was very patient and painstaking in all he did,and nearly as handy as the average sailor with needles,twine,canvas,and rope.
Bushmen say that that kitchen jumped off its piles and on again.
When the smoke and dust cleared away,the remains of the nasty yellow dog were lying against the paling fence of the yard looking as if he had been kicked into a fire by a horse and afterwards rolled in the dust under a barrow,and finally thrown against the fence from a distance.
Several saddle-horses,which had been `hanging-up'round the verandah,were galloping wildly down the road in clouds of dust,with broken bridle-reins flying;and from a circle round the outskirts,from every point of the compass in the scrub,came the yelping of dogs.
Two of them went home,to the place where they were born,thirty miles away,and reached it the same night and stayed there;it was not till towards evening that the rest came back cautiously to make inquiries.One was trying to walk on two legs,and most of 'em looked more or less singed;and a little,singed,stumpy-tailed dog,who had been in the habit of hopping the back half of him along on one leg,had reason to be glad that he'd saved up the other leg all those years,for he needed it now.There was one old one-eyed cattle-dog round that shanty for years afterwards,who couldn't stand the smell of a gun being cleaned.
He it was who had taken an interest,only second to that of the yellow dog,in the cartridge.Bushmen said that it was amusing to slip up on his blind side and stick a dirty ramrod under his nose:he wouldn't wait to bring his solitary eye to bear --he'd take to the Bush and stay out all night.
For half an hour or so after the explosion there were several Bushmen round behind the stable who crouched,doubled up,against the wall,or rolled gently on the dust,trying to laugh without shrieking.
There were two white women in hysterics at the house,and a half-caste rushing aimlessly round with a dipper of cold water.
The publican was holding his wife tight and begging her between her squawks,to `hold up for my sake,Mary,or I'll lam the life out of ye.'
Dave decided to apologise later on,`when things had settled a bit,'and went back to camp.And the dog that had done it all,`Tommy',the great,idiotic mongrel retriever,came slobbering round Dave and lashing his legs with his tail,and trotted home after him,smiling his broadest,longest,and reddest smile of amiability,and apparently satisfied for one afternoon with the fun he'd had.
Andy chained the dog up securely,and cooked some more chops,while Dave went to help Jim out of the hole.
And most of this is why,for years afterwards,lanky,easy-going Bushmen,riding lazily past Dave's camp,would cry,in a lazy drawl and with just a hint of the nasal twang --`'El-lo,Da-a-ve!How's the fishin'getting on,Da-a-ve?'
Poisonous Jimmy Gets Left.
I.Dave Regan's Yarn.
`When we got tired of digging about Mudgee-Budgee,and getting no gold,'said Dave Regan,Bushman,`me and my mate,Jim Bently,decided to take a turn at droving;so we went with Bob Baker,the drover,overland with a big mob of cattle,way up into Northern Queensland.
`We couldn't get a job on the home track,and we spent most of our money,like a pair of fools,at a pub.at a town way up over the border,where they had a flash barmaid from Brisbane.We sold our pack-horses and pack-saddles,and rode out of that town with our swags on our riding-horses in front of us.
We had another spree at another place,and by the time we got near New South Wales we were pretty well stumped.
`Just the other side of Mulgatown,near the border,we came on a big mob of cattle in a paddock,and a party of drovers camped on the creek.
They had brought the cattle down from the north and were going no farther with them;their boss had ridden on into Mulgatown to get the cheques to pay them off,and they were waiting for him.
`"And Poisonous Jimmy is waiting for us,"said one of them.
`Poisonous Jimmy kept a shanty a piece along the road from their camp towards Mulgatown.He was called "Poisonous Jimmy"perhaps on account of his liquor,or perhaps because he had a job of poisoning dingoes on a station in the Bogan scrubs at one time.He was a sharp publican.
He had a girl,and they said that whenever a shearing-shed cut-out on his side and he saw the shearers coming along the road,he'd say to the girl,"Run and get your best frock on,Mary!Here's the shearers comin'."And if a chequeman wouldn't drink he'd try to get him into his bar and shout for him till he was too drunk to keep his hands out of his pockets.
`"But he won't get us,"said another of the drovers."I'm going to ride straight into Mulgatown and send my money home by the post as soon as I get it."`"You've always said that,Jack,"said the first drover.
`We yarned a while,and had some tea,and then me and Jim got on our horses and rode on.We were burned to bricks and ragged and dusty and parched up enough,and so were our horses.
We only had a few shillings to carry us four or five hundred miles home,but it was mighty hot and dusty,and we felt that we must have a drink at the shanty.This was west of the sixpenny-line at that time --all drinks were a shilling along here.
`Just before we reached the shanty I got an idea.
`"We'll plant our swags in the scrub,"I said to Jim.
`"What for?"said Jim.
