"Certainly, I will."

"Well, it's a half day's contract I'll git some breakfast ready, while you (fellows) unloosens the ropes."

Thompson and I released the bullocks from the pole, unfastened the ropes, and brought the wagon down to its wheels again. Then Cooper summoned us to breakfast.

"You'll jist take sort o' pot-luck, Collins," he remarked.

"I should 'a' baked some soda bread an' boiled some meat last night, on'y for bein' too busy doin' nothing. Laziness is catchin'.

That's why I hate a lot o' fellers campin' together; it's nothing but yarn, yarn; an' your wagon ain't greazed, an' your tarpolin ain't looked to; an' nothin done but yarn, yarn; an' you floggin' in your own mind at not gittin' ahead o' your work. That's where women's got the purchase on us (fellows). When a lot o' women gits together, one o' them reads out something religious, an' the rest all wires in at sewin', or knittin', or some (adj.) thing. They can't suffer to be idle, nor to see anybody else idle--women can't." Cooper was an observer.

It was pleasant to hear him philosophise.

The work of reloading was made severe and tedious by the lack of any better skids than the poles of the two wagons--was, indeed, made impossible under the circ.u.mstances, but for Cooper's enormous and wellsaved strength. Our toil was enlivened, however, by an argument as to the esoteric cause of the capsize. Cooper maintained that nothing better could have been hoped for, after leaving Kenilworth shed on a Friday; Thompson, untrammelled by such superst.i.tion, contended that the misadventure was solely due to travelling on Sunday; whilst I held it to be merely a proof that Cooper, in spite of his sins, wasn't deserted yet. Each of us supported his argument by a wealth of ill.u.s.trative cases, and thus fortified his own stubborn opinion to his own perfect satisfaction. Then, descending to more tangible things, we discussed Cleopatra. Here we were unanimous in deciding that the horse had, as yet, disclosed only two faults, and these not the faults of the Irishman's horse in the weary yarn. One of them, we concluded, was to buck like a demon on being first mounted, and the other was to grope backward for the person who went to catch him after delivery of loading.

In the meantime, four hors.e.m.e.n, with three pack-horses, went by; then two horse teams, loaded outward; then Stewart, of Kooltopa, paused to give a few words of sympathy as he drove past; then far ahead, we saw two wool teams, evidently from Boolka, converging slowly toward the main track; then more wool came in sight from the pine-ridge, five or six miles behind. By this time, it was after mid-day; and Cooper, having tied the last levers, looked round before descending from the load.

"Somebody on a grey horse comin' along the track from the ram-padd.i.c.k, an' another (fellow) on a brown horse comin' across the plain," he remarked.

"Wonder if one o' them's Martin-an' he's rose a horse at the station?"

"I was thinking about to-night," replied Thompson. "I'd forgot Martin.

Duffing soon comes under the what-you-may-call-him."

"Statute of Limitations?" I suggested.

"Yes. Come and have a drink of tea, and a bit of Cooper's pastry.

His cookery does n't fatten, but it fills up."

"O you (adj.) liar," gently protested the Cornstalk, as he seated himself on the ground beside the tucker-box. "Is this Martin?"--for the man on the grey horse was approaching at a canter.

"No," I replied; "he's a stranger to me."

"But that's Martin on the brown horse," said Thompson, with rising vexation.

"Keep him on a string, Tom, if you can. Don't let him drive us into a lie about last night, for, after all, I'll be hanged if I'm man enough to tell him the truth, nor won't be for the next fortnight or three weeks."

By this time, the man on the grey horse was pa.s.sing us.

In response to Thompson's invitation, he stopped and dismounted.

"Jist help yourself, an' your friends'll like you the better, as the sayin' is," said Cooper, handing him a pannikin.

"Thanks. I'll do so; I didn't have any breakfast this morning,"

replied the stranger, picking up a johnny-cake (which liberal shepherds give a grosser name), and eating it with relish, while the interior lamina of dough spued out from between the charred crusts under the pressure of his strong teeth. "Been having a little mishap?"

"Yes; nothing broke, though."

"How long since my lads pa.s.sed? I see their tracks on the road."

"About three hours," replied Thompson. "Did you meet an old man and a young fellow, with wool-grey horse behind one of the wagons?

Good day, Mr. Martin. Have a drink of tea?"

"Yes, I met them," replied the stranger. "Old Price's teams, I think--Good day, Martin--six or seven miles from here; Dixon travelling behind, with another fellow driving his team-- long-lost brother, apparently."

"Where did you fellows have your bullocks last night?" demanded Martin, his eye resting on the sun-cracked stucco which covered three-fourths of Damper's colossal personality.

"And did you see a dark chestnut horse; bang tail; star and snip; white hind feet; saddle and bridle on?" I asked. "I ran across Moriarty this morning," I continued, turning politely to Martin; "and he told me he was after a horse of that description; but he was in a hurry"----

"Dark chestnut horse; bang tail; star and snip; white hind feet; JR near shoulder; like 2 in circle off thigh," said the stranger reflectively.

"Yes; I saw the horse this morning, but the owner has got him again-- red-headed young fellow; tweed pants, strapped with moleskin. I met him at the Nalrooka boundary shortly after sunrise--thirty miles from here, I should say. I was speaking to him. He told me the horse had slung him and got away from him last night, and he had found him by good luck before daylight this morning. He came down on his hand, poor beggar; it's swelled like a boxing-glove. But he's taking it out of the horse."

Now, in the Riverina of that period, it was considered much more disgraceful to be had by a scoundrel than to commit a felony yourself; therefore Martin, partly grasping the situation, a.s.sumed an oblivious, and even drowsy, air.

"Did the young fellow say where he was going?" I asked, pitying Martin's dilemma, and admiring his greatness of soul, for I had more than once been there myself.

"No; he only wanted to borrow a pipe of tobacco; but after we parted I saw him strike out across the plain to the right."

Martin yawned, turned his horse, and rode slowly toward the selection.

Very slowly, so that the stranger might overtake him soon. Come weal, come woe, he would n't trail his honour in the dust before three cynical onlookers.

"Well, I'll push on," said the stranger, setting down his pannikin.

"I want to pull my chaps, and I'm thinking about my horse. I say"-- glancing after Martin, and lowering his voice--"you fellows have a devil of a bad show for to-night."

"You're right," replied Thompson.

"Tell you what you'll do: Camp at the belars, and they'll think you're on for the ration-paddock; then, between the two lights, just scoot for the Dead Horse Swamp."

"Never any gra.s.s there," said Thompson.

"That's the beauty of it," replied the stranger. "They've been putting down a tank in the middle of the swamp this winter; and the contractor had about a dozen young fellows, every one of them with a horse and a dog, kicking up (sheol)'s delight. There has n't been a smell of a sheep within coo-ee of the swamp for the last three months; and the paddock was mustered for shearing just before the contractor left.

It's into your hand for to-night. Well, I must"----

"I beg your pardon," said Thompson hesitatingly--"Are you coming direct from Hay?"

"Well, I left on Sat.u.r.day morning."

"The mailman was telling me," continued Thompson wistfully, "that Permewan and Wright had three ton of dynamite for Broken Hill.

Do you know is it gone yet?"

"Not when I left," replied the Encyclopedia Australiensis.

"They're offering eighty, and I've no doubt they'll spring to a hundred.

Extra-hazardous tack; and there's not a blade of gra.s.s once you pa.s.s the Merowie. Good day, boys." And, nodding to us collectively, he departed.

"Steve," said I; "are you a man to go fooling with high explosives,-- considering the thing that's on you?"

"Well," replied Thompson doggedly, "it's come to this with me, that I must make a spoon or spoil a horn; and if that infernal thing would only keep off till I got the stuff delivered, I'd be right.

My bullocks are fit for any track in Australia."

"Let's git down to Hay fust," interposed Cooper; "then you can do as you like; but I'll be wantin' a way-bill that'll take me safe out o' Port Phillip.

Say, Collins; I'll buy that new saddle off o' you. Mine's all in splinters, for my horse he's a beggar to roll."

"I'd hardly feel justified in selling it," I replied. "But I'll tell you what I'll do: I'll sell you my own saddle cheap--say, three notes-- and give you b.u.m's bridle in."

Cooper agreed to the proposal. Then, as Pup had been eating about ten pounds of salt mutton, stolen from the bullock drivers' stores, I enticed him to take a good drink of water, knowing he would need it before the day was over. It was absolutely imperative that I should go thirty miles, and then, if possible, camp alone. So I shook hands with the outlaws, and started; leading Bunyip till he should become accustomed to his new companion.