“Yes, I suppose you would,” said Eva, still disdainfully. “That’s what you’ll be, I suppose, when you’re grown up—a fighter, and a drinker, and a smoker, and a swea——”
Just then a whip cracked in the distance, and they turned in dismay.
“Oh, Willie, the sheep! I do hope Gussie hasn’t killed them.”
“Great snakes!” shouted Willie. “Let’s after them,” and away they scampered, forgetting their anger for the time being.
Away across the paddock the sheep were coming slowly towards them, driven by Big Tom from “Myall.”
“Hello!” he cried in his loud, hearty voice. “I thought you were supposed to be taking this lot to the shed.”
“So we were, Tom; but Gussie chased them away from the gate, and we’ve been trying ever since to open the old thing,” announced Willie, importantly.
“And is it open now?”
“No. It refused to open,” said Willie, with all his manners laid on again.
“Refused to open,” chuckled Tom under his breath. “All right,” he cried, cheerily, “you two get behind this mob, and just walk along slowly, and I’ll fix up that gate in one act. I’ll take this mongrel with me,” he continued, as he tied his whip through Gussie’s collar. “No use of three new chums being together,” and he rode off.