As he
drank, the "fizz" spattered its foam all over his face and beard, and
after putting down the empty cup with a satisfied sigh, he joined us as
we sat on the pebbly incline, waiting for the billy to boil, and with the
tucker-bags dumped down around and about us. "Real refreshing that!" he
said, drawing a red handkerchief from his belt and mopping his spattered
face and beard, adding, as he passed the damp handkerchief over his ears
and neck with chuckling exaggeration: "Tell you what! A fizz 'ud be a
great thing if you were short of water. You could get a drink and have a
good wash-up with the one cupful."
With the "fizz," Dan's interest in education revived, and after dinner he
took up the role of showman of the Roper scenery once more, and had us
scrambling over boulders and cliffs along the dry bed of the creek that
runs back from the Punch Bowl, until, having clambered over its left bank
into a shady glen, we found ourselves beneath the gem of the Roper--a
wide-spreading banyan tree, with its propped-up branches turning and
twisting in long winding leafy passages and balconies, over a feathery
grove of young palm trees that had crept into its generous shade.
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