Free The mountain that went to the sea by Lucy Walker

hung everything imaginable from saddles to lanterns, buckets, pots and kettles, ropes, harnesses, aluminium billy-cans.
    Piled up in one corner were saddle-cloths, bush blankets, folded canvas tents. In another bush safes, one upon the
     
    other, stood supporting a pile of flat aluminium bowls. In a third corner stood stockwhips, fencing posts, long-handled shovels and spades.
    Jeckie lifted her head, almost like a filly scenting home. Here, too, hundreds and hundreds of miles out in the outback, were those unforgettable scents and smells of childhood — long ago. Candle wax and paraffin, soap, new leather, and old leather too. Dried fruits, sweets, apples in a barrel, cooking from somewhere out back. They were all there — the scents of home that had been there long ago.
    Jeckie's eyes gradually became accustomed to the darkness inside. Now she could see towards the back a long counter stretching from one side of the store almost to the other side. Jeckie walked towards it. She wanted to see if under certain glass boxes she could find again those tiny treasures of the past — coloured pencils, miniature notebooks, india rubbers, inkwells, imitation wrist watches, paper bon-bons, doll-size cutlery, aniseed balls, pink and white 'lolly' bars, liquorice straps .. .
    They were all there — right down to the miniature baby dolls, toy soldiers, bouncing balls, packets of hundreds and thousands, bags of sherbet.
    Jeckie pushed her sun hat to the back of her head and leaned on the counter. She gazed into the showcases, recognizing with sheer joy the tiny things she herself had treasured when all the country stores were old-fashioned, and before the days of universal refrigeration hundreds of miles from any town centre.
    She hopped a little on one foot. She bent the knee of the other leg and kicked her foot out a little behind her — a habit never lost. Her one wavering foot in the air lost its shoe. It made a half circle in the air, then dropped with a plonk, just two feet behind her.
    Jeckie was not worrying. Her shoe on or off did not bother her. Sometimes without thinking she actually kicked it off. It was a way of life with her left foot.
    `Why, there,' she said aloud, 'is a tiny doll-size pack of cards. I remember — '
    Someone had crossed the floor very quietly. Half of
    Jeckie heard but the other half went on joyously picking
     
    out old, remembered toylets of other country stores nearly a thousand miles from here.
    The newcomer bent, then gently slipped her shoe back on her foot.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    Jeckie whirled round.
    `It's you!' she cried. Delight shone in her face. 'It's — No, don't tell me! I remember. It's Jason, isn't it?'
    `That right. Jason. J. J. for short.'
    His smile was gorgeous, Jeckie thought. Open and friendly and kind.
    `As long as it's not the other mystery man,' she said happily as she leaned back with her elbows on the counter. She smiled up at him, her eyes bright as stars. 'The other one they call "Joe Blow". He's the "J" to be avoided — I'm told.'
    The smile was still there but his eyes were steady, watching her, asking her eyes to stay sparkling and blue, wide to his gaze.
    `Joe Blow?' he pondered. Then he pulled one ear gently. 'He's a noisy fella, that one. Generally speaking, he's well meaning though. Can have a nuisance value, too, at times. It’s news to me he has to be avoided by charming young visitors like you, young miss.'
    `You know him — ' Jeckie asked, her eyes wide open.
    'Of course. Everyone knows Joe Blow. There are Joe Blows all over the place—'
    Jeckie looked puzzled.
    He laughed as he watched the changing shadows in her face.
    `Joe Blow can be anybody or everybody,' he explained. `He's the do-gooder and every town has at least one. As I said — he could be a nuisance — if he's a noisy one.'
    Jeckie's face fell. 'You mean "Joe Blow" is just a sort of nickname given to a certain type of person? Not just the name of one real person?'
    `That's right. He's a type. That's