But serpent-like the curves and lines Slipped past them and between,Until they reached the bound"ry where
The old coach-road had been. "The track is now our only hope; There we must stand," cried Ross;"For naught on earth can stop the fire
If once it gets across."
Then came a cruel gust of wind,
And, with a fiendish rush,
The flames leapt o"er the narrow path,
And lit the fence and brush.
"The crop must burn!" the farmer cried, "We cannot save it now;"And down upon the blackened ground He dashed the ragged bough.
But wildly, in a rush of hope, His heart began to beat,For o"er the crackling fire he heard The sound of horses" feet.
"Here"s help at last," young Robert cried;
And even as he spoke
The squatter with a dozen men
Came spurring through the smoke.
Down on the ground the stockmen jumped, And bared each brawny arm;They tore green branches from the trees
And fought for Ross"s farm;
And when before the gallant band
The beaten flames gave way,
Two grimy hands in friendship joined- And it was Christmas Day.
Henry Lawson
Author.-Henry Lawson (see "The Drover"s Wife").
General Notes.-Who was Ross? Who was Black? What was the quarrel between them? Why did Robert Black go to help fight the fire? What made the elder Black come to the rescue? Do you know any other story of a bush fire? Was Robert right in disobeying his father? Why was Christmas Eve an appropriate time to make peace? Which is your favourite stanza in the poem? Why?
There is some Australian history in this poem as well as a good story. In the early days of Australian settlement, sheep farmers in the search for new land drove their flocks into unsettled country and established sheep runs. They did not own the land, and because of that they were known as "squatters." Later came the "selectors," who were allowed to buy small farms. Often the squatter found the best parts of his run taken up by selectors, and this caused many quarrels.
Lesson 12
THE kING OF THE WINDS
[This story is one of a number told in The Meeting Pool, a book by Mervyn Skipper, an Australian writer who spent some years on a little island near the big island of Borneo. The animals wish to stop the White Man from clearing their jungle, and they gather at the meeting pool to decide what to do. The Flying-fox suggests that they should use softness instead of force, and tells the story of the King of the Winds.]
One fine day, said the Flying-fox, when the winds were taking a holiday and all the small white clouds were drifting about happily as if they didn"t know where they were going and didn"t much care, and all the fishing boats were lying becalmed on the sea, which was peacefully smiling because it was being left alone for once, and even the leaves on the trees on shore had stopped whispering to one another and were hanging down fast asleep- well, one fine day the North-west wind, having nothing better to do, strolled over from Singapore and paid a call on the South-east wind, who lives round about Celebes. The North-west wind is a blusterer and given to boasting, and he never misses a chance of talking about how strong he is.
"Talking about blowing," he said, although they weren"t talking about anything of the sort, " yesterday, as I was passing through Kualalumpur, I blew the whiskers off a witch-doctor.""That was a good effort," murmured the South-east wind. "Blowing whiskers off witch-doctors is good practice. When I want a little gentle exercise I try blowing Kodok, the tree-frog, off his coconut-tree.""Fireballs and forked lightning!" growled the North-west wind. " Tree-frogs are poor practice. I wouldn"t waste breath over them.""All the same," said the South-east wind, " I bet youcouldn"t blow Kodok off his coconut-tree."
The North-west wind took a short breath, which made the little clouds swim about like gold-fish, and puffed it contemptuously at the little green tree-frog. The coconut- tree he was sitting on groaned and bent its head; but when it straightened itself Kodok was still sitting on his palm leaf smiling peacefully.
The North-west wind now took a deep breath, which made the breakers grumble on the reef and drove all the little cloudlets helter-skelter over the skyline. The coconut- tree screamed and bent nearly double, and some of its fruit went flop, flop on the ground. But when it was over Kodok was still in the same place and still smiling happily.
This made the North-west wind angry. He set his teeth, went purple in the face, and sucked in all the air for a hundred miles around. All the millions of little waves woke up, put their little white caps on, and started racing madly after each other, and the fishermen buoyed their nets and ran for home. Then the North-west wind turned on the unfortunate coconut-tree and blew and blew and blew until all the rest of the coconuts flew off one after the other, and the unhappy tree bent down, and down, and down until it nearly touched the ground.
And when the North-west wind had blown himself quite empty, so that he could blow no more that day, there was little Kodok, swinging himself happily to and fro on his palm frond.
"Now, let me try," purred the South-east wind; and he pursed up his lips and blew softly and gently, so gently that the little waves took their white caps off, stopped racing about, and went tinkling on the shore like music; and the grass-blades all whispered a song, and the leaves of the coconut-tree made such a quiet lullaby as they waved gently to and fro that presently Kodok, who was a tiny bit tired after being blown about so much by the North-west wind, fell fast asleep. Then the South-east wind suddenly stopped blowing, and Kodok was so surprised that he fell off. That is why they call the South-east wind the Rajah Angin, the Kingof the Winds. Which shows, finished the Flying-fox, rattling her bony wings, that sometimes you can get things done just as well by being quiet and gentle as by being rough and strong.
From The Meeting Pool, by Mervyn Skipper
