“Humph!” said the captain. “Strange! There must be very few in these parts, but I always feel that we shall run against them some day.”
Chapter Sixteen.
“We’ll find ’em.”
The troubles of the expedition had died out to such an extent that there was some talk of another, the captain saying that for exploring reasons he should head this himself.
Just then Uncle Jack kicked his foot under the table, and the captain looked up to see such a look of agony in his wife’s face that the subject dropped.
All was going on admirably, oxen and sheep were increasing, the garden was flourishing, and Dingo Station was daily growing more and more the home of peace and plenty.
“Ah, Jack,” said the captain to his brother, as they sat one evening smoking tobacco of their own growing, “if it were not for the thoughts of the black fellows, what a paradise this would be!”
“Perhaps the blacks say something of the kind respecting the whites.”