Then we heard that as Mac had "only just arrived from the
Katherine, he couldn't leave his horses until they were fixed up"; but
the landlord's eyes having wandered back to the "Goer," he winked
deliberately at the Maluka before inviting us to "step across to the
Pub."
The Pub seemed utterly deserted, and with another wink the landlord
explained the silence by saying that "a cyclone of some sort" had swept
most of his "regulars" away; and then he went shouting through the
echoing passages for a "boy" to "fetch along tea."
Before the tea appeared, an angry Scotch voice crept to us through thin
partitions, saying: "It's not a fit place for a woman, and, besides,
nobody wants her!" And in a little while we heard the same voice
inquiring for "the Boss."
"The telegraphing bush-whacker," I said, and invited the Maluka to come
and see me defy him. But when I found myself face to face with over six
feet of brawny quizzing, wrathful-looking Scotchman, all my courage
slipped away, and edging closer to the Maluka, I held out my hand to the
bushman, murmuring lamely: "How do you do?"
Instantly a change came over the rugged, bearded face.
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