"
One dark, gusty evening, Harry Chatswood's coach dragged, heavily
though passengerless, into Cunnamulla, and, as he turned into the yard
of the local "Royal," he saw Mac's tilted four-wheeler (which he
called his "van") drawn up opposite by the kerbing round the post
office. Mac always chose a central position--with a vague idea of
advertisement perhaps. But the nearness to the P.O. reminded Harry of
the mail contracts, and he knew that Mac had taken up a passenger or
two and some parcels in front of him (Harry) on the trip in. And
something told Harry that Mac was asleep inside his van. It was a
windy night, with signs of rain, and the curtains were drawn close.
Old Mac was there all right, and sleeping the sleep of a tired driver
after a long drowsy day on a hard box-seat, with little or no back
railing to it. But there was a lecture on, or an exhibition of
hypnotism or mesmerism--"a blanky spirit rappin' fake," they called
it, run by "some blanker" in "the hall;" and when old Mac had seen
to his horses, he thought he might as well drop in for half an hour
and see what was going on. Being a Mac, he was, of course,
theological, scientific, and argumentative. He saw some things which
woke him up, challenged the performer to hypnotize him, was
"operated" on or "fooled with" a bit, had a "numb sorter
light-headed feelin'," and was told by a voice from the back of the
hall that his "leg was being pulled, Mac," and by another buzzin'
far-away kind of "ventrillick" voice that he would make a good
subject, and that, if he only had the will power and knew how (which
he would learn from a book the professor had to sell for five
shillings) he would be able to drive his van without horses or any
thing, save the pole sticking straight out in front.
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