The Night They Stormed Eureka Read Online Free Page A

over at Sam, then back to his wife, his face quite expressionless. Finally he sighed. ‘We must remember she is a son, at least until we are back in Melbourne, Mrs Puddleham.’
    He hasn’t said yes, thought Sam. He just hasn’t said no.
    ‘Son or daughter, it’s all one,’ Mrs Puddleham’s big hand grasped Sam’s even more firmly. It felt surprisingly soft, despite its scars and calluses. ‘Come on now, deary. An’ don’t you worry none. ‘Cause there’s one thing I can promise you.’ She grinned, showing the gaps in her yellow teeth. ‘You won’t be goin’ hungry. All the stew you can eat, an’ brownie and some of my good damper toasted with butter and treacle … I’ll put some meat on your bones, you’ll see.’
    Toasted damper, thought Sam. Her stomach clenched with anticipated pleasure, its hunger only just satisfied despite the dumplings. At least she’d got the buttered toast right.

Chapter 5
    She walked with the Puddlehams without thinking for a while. Mrs Puddleham’s hand still held hers. It was enough to have the bell-like tinkle of the birds above them, the hush of the trees. A wallaby glanced at them, then bounded off.
    ‘Good eating on them kangas,’ remarked Mrs Puddleham. ‘Long as you gets a young ‘un, o’ course.’
    ‘That was a wallaby, Mrs Puddleham, not a kangaroo,’ Mr Puddleham puffed slightly as he pushed the wheelbarrow.
    ‘Same thing. Just ain’t as much meat. You want me to take a turn at the barrow now, Mr P?’
    ‘I am obliged to you, Mrs Puddleham, but I can manage.’
    Mrs Puddleham breathed in the air happily. ‘Smells like it’s just had its face washed, don’t it? Good to get away from the diggings for a bit. Like a walk in the park, ain’t it, Mr P?’
    Mr Puddleham said nothing as he continued to push the barrow.
    The track wound between the trees, splodged now and then with horse droppings. Long curls of bark crackled like cornflakes as Mr Puddleham pushed the barrow over them.
    They’d walked for an hour or so when they heard footsteps. A group of men strode round a corner towards them. Two were dressed in bright shirts like the bushranger’s, with hats made from what looked like palm fronds on their heads and shotguns at their sides; one wore a suit made out of stiff once-white cloth. The other man was so stooped he walked like a crab, and his clothes were so ragged it was hard to see what they had once been.
    Sam felt terror prickle up her back. Were they bushrangers too? But Mr Puddleham doffed his top hat to them.
    ‘Fine day for it, Mr Puddleham,’ said one of the men, touching the brim of his own strange hat.
    ‘It is indeed, sir,’ said Mr Puddleham majestically.
    The bent man grinned. ‘You want a few roo tails if we gets some, ma?’ he asked Mrs Puddleham, peering up lopsidedly to look into her face.
    Mr Puddleham coughed. ‘Mrs Puddleham, if you please,’ he corrected.
    The man’s grin grew wider, showing worn grey teeth. ‘O’ course. What were I thinking? You wants some kangaroo posteriors, Mrs Puddleham, ma’am?’
    Mrs Puddleham’s mouth pursed up like a currant. ‘You keep your kanga tails to yourself, Banger Murphy. I’ll have you know I serve good mutton in my pots, an’ if anyonesay I don’t — well, he won’t get a bit o’ my spotted dick, that’s all I got to say, no matter if he gives me a whole nugget in return.’
    ‘You serving spotted dick again this Sunday, Mrs P?’ asked one of the other men hopefully. He was small, with fallen cheeks and a strange slackness around his mouth when he spoke. No teeth, thought Sam. She’d never seen anyone with no teeth before.
    ‘I might. So you behaves yourself. Full o’ currants, my puddin’ is, and rich enough to give you the strength to dig yourselves a whole barrel o’ gold.’ She gave the men a royal wave as they doffed their hats to her.
    ‘Kangaroo tails,’ she muttered as the men vanished down the track. ‘Not that I have nothing against a few roo