"
Before long Mac was reminding us that a year ago she was wrestling with
the servant question, and Cheon coming by, we indulged in a negative
anniversary. "A year ago, Cheon," we said "there was no Cheon in our
lives," and Cheon pitied our former forlorn condition as only Cheon
could, at the same time asking us what could be expected of one of Sam's
ways and caste.
Then other anniversaries crowded on us thick and fast, and with them
there crept into the Territory that scourge of the wet season--malarial
dysentery, and travellers coming in stricken-down with it rested a little
while before going on again.
But two of these sick travellers went down to the very gates of death,
where one, a little Chinaman, slipped through, blessing the "good boss,"
who treated all men alike, and leaving an echo of the blessing in old
Cheon's loyal heart. But the other sick traveller turned back from those
open gates, although bowed with the weight of seventy years, and faced
life anew, blessing in his turn "the whitest man" those seventy years had
known.
Bravely the worn, bowed shoulders took up the burden of life again, and,
as they squared to their load, we slipped back to our anniversaries--once
more Jack went bush for the schooling of his colts, once more Mac and Dan
went into the Katherine to "see about the ordering of stores," Tam going
with them; and as they rode out of the homestead, once more we slipped,
with the Dandy, into the Land of Wait-a-while--waiting once more for the
wet to lift, for the waggons to come, and for the Territory to rouse
itself for another year's work.
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