"A vera thoughtful letter indeed," agreed Mackay, dryly.
Then they set about preparing tea, and while they were thus engaged the Shadow made his appearance, evidently in great good humour. He carried something concealed in his hand which he gazed at tenderly as he entered, then consigned it to some secret recess in his scanty wardrobe.
"I reckon," said he, "that I want an invite to your banquet to-night. I hasn't even an inch o' damper left in my tent. I broke up the happy home too soon, I calc'late."
Mackay laughed. "I ken you're a grand cook, Shadow," said he, "an', providin' ye behave, we'll be glad to have your company. Ye'll get flour in that bag at your feet, an' water in the kerosene-tin beside ye. Now ye can take my place an' mak' wi' these ingredients something nice an' tasty. I'll even gie ye a tootle on the flute to inspire ye in yer efforts."
The lad's countenance fell. "I see I has come along too soon," he grumbled. Then he fished about in the folds of his shirt and drew forth the treasure he had secreted. In the quickly fading light it was not easily observable what he held in his hand; but when the wondering trio saw him convey the same to his mouth their worst fears were realized. Before they could protest, the wailing of a mouth-organ filled the tent. The Shadow blew with might and main, an ecstatic joy illuminating his features, his foot keeping time to the music he perpetrated, and sending up clouds of dust from the sandy floor. That he anticipated a sudden closure was very apparent by the fierce energy he displayed, yet, strangely enough, he was allowed to finish the first tune without mishap; it was only when he adroitly essayed to glide off into a fresh outburst that Mackay intervened.
"Ye should play that first spasm mair pianissimo," he ventured mildly, while Jack sprinkled water about to allay the dust. "Now, put that orchestra in your pocket, an' keep it there until we get far oot into the bush. Then ye can kill the crows wi' it if ye like."
"Right O!" responded the Shadow, seemingly delighted to have escaped so easily. "Now, I reckon I'll bake a real bowser brownie for tea, an' we'll have a real ole blow out, we will."
"Let us eat, drink, and be merry," remarked Bob, thoughtfully, "for to-morrow we——"
"Start for the Never Never," prompted Jack.
Shortly after sunrise the camel team was once more loaded up, and now Fireworks' demeanour was beyond reproach; he submitted to his burden with philosophic calm, and only once showed his playful disposition by tearing the sleeve from Emu Bill's shirt while that gentleman was standing too conveniently near his head. By eight o'clock all was ready for the start, the last breakfast in camp had been partaken of, and the various members of the expedition were standing at their posts awaiting the signal for advance. The population of Golden Flat had turned out en masse to witness the departure. It was not every day that an expedition left for the distant Never Never. Nuggety Dick and Dead Broke Dan were there looking anything but happy; one word from Mackay even now would have made them join the party but the leader of the expedition sternly refused to meet their appealing eyes. Once more he glanced over the team critically, as if mentally weighing up the amount of endurance contained in the four powerful animals. His scrutiny seemed to give him much satisfaction, and he smiled grimly as he turned his face to the east.