It was no use trying to wriggle from under Cheon’s foot once he put it down.  At the slightest neglect of duty, lubras or boys were marshalled and kept relentlessly to their work until he was satisfied; and woe betide the lubras who had neglected to wash hands, and pail and cow, before sitting down to their milking.  The very fowls that laid out-bush gained nothing by their subtlety.  At the faintest sound of a cackle, a dosing lubra was roused by the point of Cheon’s toe, as he shouted excitedly above her:  “Fowl sing out!  That way!  Catch ’im egg!  Go on!” pointing out the direction with much pantomime; and as the egg-basket filled to overflowing, he either chuckled with glee or expressed further contempt for Sam’s ways.

But his especial wrath was reserved for the fowl-roosts over his sleeping quarters.  “What’s ’er matter!  Fowl sit down close up kitchen!” he growled in furious gutturals, whenever his eyes rested on them; and as soon as time permitted he mounted to the roof and, boiling over with righteous indignation, hurled the offending roosts into space.

New roosts were then nailed to the branches of a spreading coolibar tree, a hundred yards or so to the north of the buildings, the trunk encircled with zinc to prevent snakes or wild cats from climbing into the roosts; a movable ladder staircase made, to be used by the fowls at bedtime, and removed as soon as they were settled for the night, lest the cats or snakes should make unlawful use of it (Cheon always foresaw every contingency); and finally, “boys” and lubras were marshalled to wean the fowls from their old love.

But the weaning took time, and proved most entertaining; and while the fowls were being taught by bitter experience to bend to Cheon’s will, the homestead pealed with shoutings and laughter.

Every evening the fun commenced about sundown, and the entire community assembled to watch it; for it was worth watching—­fowls dodged, and scurried, and squawked, as the staff and the rejected, under Cheon’s directions, chivied and danced and screamed between them and their desire, the lubras cheering to the echo every time one of the birds gave in, and stalked, cackling and indignant, up the ladder into the branches of the coolibar; or pursuing runaways that had outwitted them, in shrieking, pell-mell disorder, while Cheon, fat and perspiring, either shouted orders and cheered lustily, bounded wrathfully alter both runaways and lubras, or collapsed, doubled up with uncontrollable laughter, at the squawk of amazement from fowls which, having gained their old haunt, had found Jimmy there waiting to receive them.  As for ourselves, I doubt if we ever enjoyed anything better.  A simple thing, perhaps, to amuse grown-up white folk—­a fat, perspiring Chinaman, and eight or ten lubras chivying fowls; but it is this enjoyment of simple things that makes life in the Never-Never all it is.

Busy as he was, Cheon found time to take the missus also under his ample wing, and protect her from everything—­even herself.  “Him too muchee little fellow,” he said to the Maluka, to explain his attitude towards his mistress; and the Maluka, chuckling, shamefully encouraged him in his ways.