He took Sam in hand, and the triumph slipped away from beneath the stolid face, and a certain amount of discrimination crept into his obedience from henceforth.

Then the Sanguine Scot said that he would “tackle the lubras for her,” and in half an hour everywhere was swept and garnished, and the lubras were meek and submissive.

“You’ll need to rule them with a rod of iron,” Mac said, secretly pleased with his success.  But there was one drawback to his methods, for next day, with the exception of Nellie, there were no lubras to rule with or without a rod of iron.

Jimmy, the water-carrier and general director of the woodheap gossip, explained that they had gone off with the camp lubras for a day’s recreation; “Him knock up longa all about work,” he said, with an apologetic smile.  Jimmy was either apologetic or condescending.

Nellie rounded them up when they returned, and the Maluka suggested, as a way out of the difficulty, that I should try to make myself more attractive than the camp lubras, which Mac said “shouldn’t be difficult,” and then coughed, doubtful of the compliment.

I went down to the Creek at once to carry out the Maluka’s suggestion, and succeeded so well that I was soon the centre of a delighted dusky group, squatting on its haunches, and deep in fascinations of teaching an outsider its language.  The uncouth mispronunciations tickled the old men beyond description, and they kept me gurgling at difficult gutturals, until, convulsed at the contortion of everyday words and phrases, they echoed Dan’s opinion in queer pidgin-English that the “missus needed a deal of education.”  Jimmy gradually became loftily condescending, and as for old Nellie, she had never enjoyed anything quite so much.

Undoubtedly I made myself attractive to the blackfellow mind; for, besides having proved an unexpected entertainment, I had made every one feel mightily superior to the missus.  That power of inspiring others with a sense of superiority is an excellent trait to possess when dealing with a black fellow, for there were more than enough helpers next day, and the work was done quickly and well, so as to leave plenty of time for merry-making.

The Maluka and Mac were full of congratulations.  “You’ve got the mob well in hand now,” Mac said, unconscious that he was about to throw everything into disorder again.

For six years Mac had been in charge of the station, and when he heard that the Maluka was coming north to represent the owners, he had decided to give bullock-punching a turn as a change from stock-keeping.  Sanguine that “there was a good thing in it,” he had bought a bullock waggon and team while in at the Katherine, and secured “loading” for “inside.”  Under these circumstances it was difficult to understand why he had been so determined in his blocking, the only reason he could ever be cajoled into giving being “that he was off the escorting trick, and, besides, the other chaps had to be thought of.”