46 OVER THE SEA.

 

himselfin the midst of the wide bush. ‘Then his boots !
How worn and cut they were! How many rough
roads and stony tracks they must have tramped
over to have become so shabby as that! Freda
knew now that this man must be what is called a
“‘sun-downer ”; that is to say, aman who tramps
about along country roads and through the
lonely bush, stopping at sun-down at far-away
stations and solitary farms to beg a’ night’s
shelter in a barn or under a haystack, and to
ask may-be for a job of work next day. She
wished somehow he had not come just when
her father and his mate were so far out of the
way. He had such a big, shagey beard,
grizzled and tangled, and his face was so hairy
all over. It made her think of the wolf in
“Red Riding Hood.” And his eyes, as far
as she could make them out beneath the rim
of his tattered hat, looked so sharp and
cunning. Should she go up to him boldly ;
and ask him what he wanted, or should she
slip down from the trunk with little Bertha in
her arms, and run towards the hut, calling out,
‘Father, father, we’re ready for supper!” in order
to make the sun-downer believe that their great, strong,
good father was sitting inside (oh, how she wished he were
smoking his pipe and waiting for his little girls to come and lay
the table for supper? : :
It was necessary to come to a decision, for Freda perceived that the sun-downer was coming up to
speak to them. He hobbled rather than walked, for his feet were sore and blistered, and little
Bertha, seeing him approach, buried her face in her sister’s lap and whimpered, “I don’t like him,
I don’t.” :
“Don’t be a silly little girl,” said Freda resolutely in a low voice, then aloud, “Come Bertha!” she
added, “Father ’ll be waiting supper. Pick up your hat and we'll go and ask him what o’clock it is.”
Bertha jumped down, and hurriedly extended a fat little hand for the straw hat lying on the
gtass at her feet. But instead of picking it up, she pulled away her hand violently and uttered a
loud shriek. Meantime Freda was aware that a large black snake had glided out from beneath the
hat under which it had lain curled, and was now working its way swiftly across the dry slippery
grass to finda shelter beneath the great trunk of the gum-tree upon which she and her sister had
been playing. As the reptile crawled along you would have said that its body was made of black
moving rings. Another instant, and it would bury itself away out of reach under the ‘sheltering log.
Freda’s first impulse was to shriek out loud, as Bertha had done. There was ‘something so loath-
some as well as terrifying in the aspect of the snake as it pushed its way actively along over the slippery
grass. But like a brave little bush-woman, instead of screaming she did what was more to the point:
she seized up a stone lying on the trunk which she and Bertha had made-believe, to be a loaf for
the shipwrecked mariners, and hurled it with all the force of her two small hands against the reptile’s
head. The snake’s body curled itself up as a worm’s will do when it is cut in half with a spade. It
writhed about convulsively, twisting itself nevertheless in the direction of the sheltering log. But
another stone, well aimed by Freda at its head, put an end to its struggles by killing it outright. It
continued to move, however, for there is a kind of muscular movement left in a snake’s body long
after the life is fairly out of it, but it could do no more harm. Then Freda turned round to her little
sister, who was nursing her hand and sobbing under her breath all the while. She would have taken
her in her arms to console her, buf Bertha pushed her away. “Oh, Freda!” it’s bitten me, it has!”
she wailed; and as she held out her fat hand, with a piteous expression of terror in her childish face,
her sister saw, to her indescribable horror, that the serpent’s fang had indeed darted its venom into

the chubby little arm, just above the wrist, and had left an ugly red and blue mark, from which some
drops of blood were slowly oozing forth. d

 
  
  
  
   

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