Page:The Toll of the Bush.pdf/23

Geoffrey reined in his horse, and turning from the road, jumped the broken fence, and pulled up at the open doorway.

A young native girl, with dishevelled hair, came out at the sound of his approach and stood regarding them, rubbing the sandflies off one leg with the toes of the other.

‘Pine^[1] in?’ Geoffrey asked.

The girl turned and called to some one in the interior in a shrill voice. There was a rustling inside, and presently a native appeared, yawning and rubbing his eyes. He was an intensely ugly, good-humoured-looking man of some thirty years. His clothing consisted of a pair of tattered trousers and a faded and dirty singlet, which had long since parted company with its buttons. He looked at his visitors, said ‘Hullo’ in a sleepy voice, and leaned against the doorpost.

‘Lazy beggar!’ said Geoffrey, smiling. ‘Why aren’t you tilling the soil?’

‘Too soon to tirr him yet,’ replied Pine; ‘nex’ mont’ prenty nuff time.’

‘Now’s the time for me. I want you to come over and plough up a few acres for the potatoes.’

‘I tink dis time too soon for taters. More better by’m-by.’

‘Well, we’ll chance that. When can you come?’

Pine turned the question over in his mind. ‘My burrock up te bush tese times,’ he said at length, with a prodigious yawn. ‘I not seen. P’r’aps tree days I find him. You got any prough up to your place?’