"
Peter threw an empty bag over his shoulders, took the peg from the
door, opened it and stepped out. The racking fit of coughing burst
forth again, nearer. "That's a church-yarder!" commented Uncle
Abe.
The settler came inside and whispered to the others, who started up,
interested. The coughing started again outside. When the fit was
over the mother said:
"Wait a minute till I get the boys out of the road and then bring
them in." The boys were bundled into the end room and told to go to
bed at once. They knelt up on the rough bed of slabs and straw
mattress, instead, and applied eyes and ears to the cracks in the
partition.
The mother called to the father, who had gone outside again.
"Tell them to come inside, Peter."
"Better bring the horses into the yard first and put them under
the shed," said the father to the unknown outside in the rain and
darkness. Clatter of sliprails let down and tired hoofs over them,
and sliprails put up again; then they came in.
Wringing wet and apparently knocked up, a tall man with black curly
hair and beard, black eyes and eyebrows that made his face seem the
whiter; dressed in tweed coat, too small for him and short at the
sleeves, strapped riding-pants, leggings, and lace-up boots, all
sodden. The other a mere boy, beardless or clean shaven, figure and
face of a native, but lacking in something; dressed like his
mate--like drovers or stockmen. Arms and legs of riders, both of
them; cabbage-tree hats in left hands--as though the right ones had to
be kept ready for something (and looking like it)--pistol butts
probably.
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