"And all you've got to offer one instead," concluded Bethune, "besides the subtleties of your own humour, is a so-called turkey the size of a haystack, that'll ram its beak down your gun-barrel if you wait long enough."
The Rugbeian laughed outright, and Spicer gained time by insulting him while he rummaged his big head for a retort worthy of Bethune; it was worthier of himself when it came.
"You want adventure, do you? I know the place for you, and [its] within ten miles of where you sit. Blind Man's Block!"
"Reminds one of the Tower," yawned Bethune.
"It'll remind you of your sins if ever you get bushed in it! Ten by ten of abandoned beastliness; not a hoof or a drop between the four fences; only scrub, and scrub, and scrub of the very worst. Mallee and porcupine—porcupine and mallee. But you go and sample it; only don't get too far in from the fence. If you do you may turn up your toes; and you won't be the first or the last to turn 'em up in Blind Man's Block."
"What of?" asked Bethune sceptically.
"Thirst," said Spicer; "thirst and hunger, but chiefly thirst."
"In fenced country?"
"It's ten miles between the fences, and not a drop of water, nor the trace of a track. It's abandoned country, I'm telling you."
"But you could never be more than five miles from a fence; surely you could hit one or other of them and follow it up?"