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Rh stiffener o’ brandy. Or whisky? Now, (hair-raising imprecation) if I don’t disremember which. But I think it was brandy. Yes, it was brandy.”

“Well?” interrogated Mosey, after a pause.

“On’y jist showin’ how one idear sort o’ fetches up another,” replied the old man, with simulated ease of manner.

“Well, you  a (adj.) fool. But as I was telling you chaps: About eleven o’clock, who should come dodgin’ down the paddick but ole Martin. Bin pokin’ roun’ after Miss King, I s’pose. He walks right bang through the carrion, thinkin’ they was the station bullicks; an’ me layin’ there, laughin’ in to myself. By-’n’-by he stops an’ consithers, an’ then he goes roun’ examinin’ them, an’ smellin’ about, an’ then he has a long squint at Valiparaiser; an’ in the heel o’ the hunt he rounds up the lot, an’ sails off to the yard with ’em; an’ me follerin’ ready to collar ’em when the coast was clear. By-’n’-by I sees him leavin’ the yard, an’ I goes to it, an’ lo an’ behold you! there was a padlock on the gate as big as a sardine-box.”

“Well, we had a bunch o’ keys at the camp. I had snavelled ’em at the railway station, las’ time we was at Deniliquin, thinkin’ they might come in useful. So I heads for the camp at the rate o’ knots. Collars the keys, an’ gits a drink o’ tea, an’ takes a bit o’ brownie in my fist, an’ back I goes, doin’ the trip in about an hour. Providential, one o’ the keys fits the lock, so I whips out the carrion, an’ shoves ’em down to where the ole sinner took ’em from. Well, there was two station teams in the paddick—I s’pose they wanted ’em very early for somethin’—so I saddles Valiparaiser an’ scoots across to where I seen these bullicks when I was goin’ for the keys; an’ I shoves ’em into the yard; an’ I rakes up a ole grey horse, lame o’ four legs, an’ shoves him in along o’ the carrion, an’ locks the gate, an’ goes back to our lot, an’ keeps an eye on ’em till they laid down, fit to bust. Lord! how I laughed that night! I seen Martin watchin us nex’ mornin’, after we started. He’s got a set on me for that, among other things.”

“Hasn’t Warrigal Alf got a set on you too?” asked Thompson coldly. “Strikes me, you’re not the safest man in the world to travel with.”

“Yes, Alf gives me the prayers o’ the Church now an’ agen,” replied Mosey complacently. “It was this way: The winter afore last, we got a leader in a swap at Deniliquin. Same time I made the keys. Yaller, hoop-horned bullick—I dunno if you seen him with us? Well, this Pilot, you could n’t pack him”Here Cooper slowly rose, and walked across to his wagon“Lazy mountain o’ mullick, that.”

“Burden to his own self,” assented Price obsequiously.

“Thick-headed galoot, appearingly,” suggested Bum.

“Ought to be hunted back to the Sydney side,” contributed Dixon.

“You couldn’t pack him for a near side leader,” resumed Mosey; “but there was nothin’ for it but shepherd all night. You might bet yer soul agen five bob, Pilot was off. Whenever he seen a fence, he’d go through it, an’ whenever he seen a river, he’d swim it; an’ the whole fraternity stringin’ after, thinkin’ he was on for somethin’ worth while. Grand leader, but a beggar to clear. Well, las’ year, when we went up emp’y to Bargoona—same trip the ole man got that wonderful drink off