'Ba' al mine see 'im that one young pfeller Stevenson walk about,' said the most ancient of the women. 'Old pfeller Stevenson 'im up there. You gib it tik-a-pen, you gib it plenty pfeller 'bacca.'
Cameron threw her a bit of precious tobacco, which she proceeded at once to cut up and cram into her unsavoury-looking pipe. Then he rode on; Mortimer might by chance have gone out somewhere on the run before the women had reached the station. Half a mile nearer to the house a sundowner had been put on to mending a fence. At present he was smoking and looking at it occasionally.
'Going up to volunteer, mate?' he said, as Cameron rode through a gate.
Cameron disclaimed the honour.
'Take a tip and do it,' the fellow said. 'The old chap is off his nut just now, and is jolly well flinging his money round—him as was too close to give a fellow tucker without turning him on to axe-sharpening first. You'll get your fare to Sydney and a moke and pocket of tin handed over to you afore you've finished of telling him you want to join.'
Cameron inquired good-humouredly why under such exceptional circumstances he himself did not volunteer.
He grinned. 'Guv'nor's knowed me on and off for twenty year,' he said, and fell to looking at the work before him again. 'Seems to think I've had too much bush experience. Had a try on, of course, but Mister Mortimer he put the stopper on me. I'm cursing my luck for not waiting till he'd gone.'
'Gone!' said Cameron; 'why, where's he going?'
'He went larst Monday—you must be a just-come not to know,' the man said; 'he's goin' off to glory along o' the Swaggies Army.'
Cameron turned his horse's head and rode slowly back to the selection.