Like many
men of his type, whatever he did he did it with all his heart and
soul--hating, loving, avenging, or forgiving with equal energy; and he
now applied himself to helping the Maluka "make things easy for her," as
zealously as he had striven to "block her somehow."
Sorting out pack-bags, he put one aside, with a "We'll have to spare that
for her duds. It won't do for her to be short. She'll have enough to
put up with, without that." But when I thanked him, and said I could
manage nicely with only one, as I would not need much on the road, he and
the Maluka sat down and stared at each other in dismay. "That's for
everything you'll need till the waggons come," they explained; "your road
kit goes in your swag."
The waggons went "inside" once a year--"after the Wet," and would arrive
at the homestead early in June. As it was then only the middle of
January, I too sat down, and stared in dismay from the solitary pack-bag
to the great, heaped-up pile that had been sorted out as indispensable.
"You'll have to cull your herd a bit, that's all," Mac said; and
needlework was pointed out as a luxury.
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