Chapter 4

Theheadstockman’shousestoodonpilessomethirtyfeetaboveanarrowgulchfringedwithtall,stragglinggumtreesandmanyweepingwillows.AfterthesplendorofDroghedahomesteaditwasratherbareandutilitarian,butinitsappurtenancesitwasnotunlikethehousetheyhadleftbehindinNewZealand.SolidVictorianfurniturefilledtheroomstooverflowing,smotheredinfinereddust.

"You’reluckyhere,youhaveabathroom,"FatherRalphsaidashebroughtthemuptheplankstepstothefrontveranda;itwasquiteaclimb,forthepilesuponwhichthehousewaspoisedwerefifteenfeethigh."Incasethecreekrunsabanker,"FatherRalphexplained."You’rerightonithereandI’vehearditcanrisesixtyfeetinanight."

Theydidindeedhaveabathroom;anoldtinbathandachippedwaterheaterstoodinawalled-offalcoveattheendofthebackveranda.But,asthewomenfoundtotheirdisgust,thelavatorywasnothingmorethanaholeinthegroundsometwohundredyardsawayfromthehouse,anditstank.AfterNewZealand,primitive.

"Whoeverlivedherewasn’tveryclean,"Feesaidassheranherfingerthroughthedustonthesideboard.

FatherRalphlaughed."You’llfightalosingbattletryingtogetridofthat,"hesaid."ThisistheOutback,andtherearethreethingsyou’llneverdefeat—theheat,thedustandtheflies.Nomatterwhatyoudo,they’llawaysbewithyou."