"Yes. Macleod rode to Bateman yesterday, to get some more of that new sheep dip, and he brought a letter up from the steamer. Mr. Crosby says that he is very sorry that he can't wait, and that he must have the money at once; and, if we can't pay it to his agent in Parra-parra before a month, he shall put his men in possession, and we must turn out."
"How much do we owe him?"
"Oh, more than we can possibly get. The interest is £600. He has lent us £4,000, at 15 per cent., the miserly old Jew. Think of that, and he called himself our friend. Oh, Geordie, lad, I cannot bear to think of leaving Wandaroo. I love every mile of it;" and the poor fellow buried his face in his hands. "I think it would almost kill mother to have to go away."
"'GOLD, GOLD! CHEER UP, ALEC; OF COURSE WE'LL HAVE IT.'" (p. 5.)
"When did she tell you all this?"
"About two hours ago, when you were in the wool shed. I came out here; I could not bear to see her grief, as I could not help her; and I have been thinking, thinking till my brain burns."
"Ah, poor mother! I saw there was something wrong, though she tried to hide it, and to smile when I came in to tea. And Margaret never said my hair was rough, or anything. Have you thought of any plan, Alec?"
"No, I can think of nothing. If we sold every sheep on the run we could not raise the money. If I could be up and doing anything I should not care, but to sit here absolutely helpless will kill me. Nothing short of a gold mine can save us."
He spoke with the bitterness of despair in his voice, for life seemed very hopeless to him just then. He sat moodily gazing at the great, distant, purple hills, over which the golden round of the full moon was rising in the rich silence of the Australian night. But his words had a different effect upon George, who still sat with his sun-browned hand on his brother's arm.