Page:Short Stories (1912).djvu/83

76 This was Saturday, and everyone was in camp for an incidential drunk and to wait over Sunday for the arrival of the mail. The day was fading when Hughes sat down beside me on Ahlers' verandah, and began poking out quartz pebbles with the butt end of a piece of iron-bark.

"Damned hot!" said Hughes.

"Not so damned," I grunted for the sake of argument.

Long pause while he pushed out another pebble. Then he threw one at the dog. "Shmoker" knew he was quite safe, so he lay still.

"Been out at the Queen to-day" Hughes looked far away where the sun was setting behind the hills and drew squares in the soft red earth.

"No."

Another long pause, then, "I just came in from Buchanan," he said.

"So!" I knew it already, but I saw Hughes was leading for an opening.

"Fine show out there—why don't you go and have a look at it?"

"Heard you'd got it all." Hughes looked at me. I felt it.

"There's lots more to the eastward. Hughes drew another square.

"Why don't you take it up them?"

"Oh, I don't know. . . . Got a match?"

"I should if I thought it good. . . . Yes, here's one."

"Heard you were going out Monday with Higgins."

"Did you?"

"Yes." Hughes lit his pipe. The light in the west was failing fast.

"Well, perhaps I will."

"Going to peg out?" As the match flared up between the puffs, I could see Hughes' little beady eyes squinting out of their corners at me.