her tightly curled-up tail, and, setting her down at my feet, said: "And
this is Tiddle'ums," adding, with another flourishing bow, "A present
from a Brither Scot," while Tiddle'ums in no way resented the dignity.
Having a tail that curled tightly over her back like a cup handle, she
expected to be lifted up by it.

Then one after the other Mac presented the station dogs: Quart-Pot,
Drover, Tuppence, Misery, Buller, and a dozen others; and as I bowed
gravely to each in turn Dan chuckled in appreciation: "She'll do! Told
you she was the dead finish."

Then the introductions over, the Maluka said: "Ann, now I suppose she may
consider herself just 'One of Us.'"



CHAPTER VI


The homestead, standing half-way up the slope that rose from the
billabong, had, after all, little of that "down-at-heels, anything'll-do"
appearance that Mac had so scathingly described. No one could call it a
"commodious station home," and it was even patched up and shabby; but,
for all that, neat and cared for. An orderly little array of one-roomed
buildings, mostly built of sawn slabs, and ranged round a broad oblong
space with a precision that suggested the idea of a section of a street
cut out from some neat compact little village.

The cook's quarters, kitchens, men's quarters, store, meat-house, and
waggon-house, facing each other on either side of this oblong space,