By way of contrast, we found Dan and Jack optimistic and happy, with some
good bullocks in hand, a record branding to report for the fortnight's
work, and a drover in camp of such a delightful turn of mind that he was
inclined to look upon every bullock mustered as "just the thing." He was
easily disposed of, and within a week we were back at the homestead.
We had left Cheon sad and disconsolate, but he met us, filled with fury,
and holding a sack of something soft in his arms. "What's 'er matter?" he
spluttered, almost choking with rage. "Me savey grow cabbage "; and he
flung the sack at our feet as we stood in the homestead thoroughfare
staring at him in wonder. "Paper yabber!" he added curtly, passing a
letter to the Maluka.
It was a kindly, courteous letter from our Eastern neighbour, who had
"ventured to send a cabbage, remembering the homestead garden did not get
on too well." (His visits had been in Sam's day). "How kind!" we said,
and not understanding Cheon's wrath, the Maluka opened the bag, and
passed two fine cabbages to him after duly admiring them.
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