"I am his Highness' dog at Kew,
Pray, tell me, sir, whose dog are you?"
Pope.
The last remark in the preceding chapter was elicited by the appearance of a stranger, who, at the moment of its utterance, rode up to the station, and knocked at the open door of the house. Upon being desired in the stentorian voice of the owner of the place, from the room in which he sat, to "come in," a rather gentlemanly-looking man of about the middle height and relative age, presented himself before the conclave; and said: "I have to apologize, gentlemen, for intruding upon your privacy; have I the pleasure of addressing Dr. Graham?"
"That is my appellation," replied the individual in question.
"And mine, sir, is Moffatt, of the Sydney firm of that name, wool-buyers; possibly it may be known to you. I am purchasing wool, and if you have not already disposed of your clip, will be happy to make you an offer. I have come over-land, right through the New England district, and having consumed more time on the road than I intended, I find I am rather late for the stations in these northern parts; they having got most of their clips away."
"Well, sir, I have got mine off too; all but a few bales," replied the proprietor of Clintown.
"If you have not already made any arrangements relative to its disposal," remarked the buyer, "I can judge of your clip by what you have remaining, and make you an offer for the whole; and, if we come to terms, you can intimate the sale to your agents before its arrival at port, and instruct them to deliver it to my order."
"All right," exclaimed the squatter, "we'll talk about business presently; join us in a nobbler, there is the bottle. You will find a glass over there," and he pointed to an hermaphrodite piece of furniture, standing at one side of the room.
The stranger thanked his host, and taking his seat, while he assisted himself to a "stiff ball," said, "Pray, don't let me disturb the conversation that you were engaged in at the moment of my abrupt entrance."