“When is the wet season, then?”
“Oh, a couple of months, likely. Perhaps three months. Perhaps there won’t be none at all to speak of. What’ll you have?”
“Oh, I have just had a drink, thanks. Fact is, I’m a bit anxious to get out to this camp. It’s a bit important. You don’t know where they are for certain?”
“Lord knows! Anywhere! Might be on one river, might be on another. They’ll come in in the wet season. Better have a drink, anyhow. You must have something. What’ll it be—square? Beer? Can’t stand beer in this climate, myself.”
“Oh, well,” said Hugh desperately, “I’ll have another square. Make it a light one. Do you think I can get anyone who knows where they are camped to go out with me?”
“Tommy Prince’d know, I expect. He was out in that country before. But he’s gone with a bullock-team, drawing quartz to the new battery at the Oriental. At least I saw him start out three weeks ago. Said he was in a hurry, too, as the battery couldn’t start until he got the quartz hauled.”
“Perhaps he didn’t start,” said Hugh; “perhaps he put it off till after the wet season?”
“Well,” said the storekeeper, meditatively, “he might, but I don’t think he would. There’s no one else, that I know of, can find them for you. Lord knows where they are. They camp in one place till the buffalo are all shot, and then they shift to new ground. Perhaps ten miles, perhaps thirty. Have another drink? What’ll you have?”
“No, not any more, thanks. About this Tommy Prince, now; if I can find him he might tell me where to go. Where can I find him?”
“Down at the Margaret is where he camps, but I think he’s gone to the Oriental by this time—sure to be. That’s about forty miles down past the Margaret. There was a fellow came in from the Margaret for supplies, and he’ll be going back to-morrow—if he can find his pack-horses.”