“Oh, shouldn’t I. Catch me stopping to let the blacks make a target of me. I should have run as hard as I could.”
“That’s what I thought,” said Rifle, after a pause; “but I couldn’t turn. I was too much frightened.”
“What, did your knees feel all shivery-wiggle?”
“No; it wasn’t that. I was afraid of Tim thinking I was a coward, and so I went on with him, and found it was only a black cockatoo that had frightened him, but I was glad when it was all over. You’d have done the same, Man.”
“Would I?” said the lad, dubiously. “I don’t know. Aren’t you going to have a drop yourself?”
Rifle poured the remains of the tea into the mug, and gave it a twist round.
“I say,” he said, to change the conversation, which was not pleasant to him, “as soon as we get settled down at the farm, I shall vote for our having milk with our tea.”
“Cream,” cried Man. “I’m tired of ship tea and nothing in it but sugar. Hist! look there.”
His brother swung round and followed the direction of Man’s pointing finger, to where in the distance they could see some animals feeding among the grass.
“Rabbits!” cried the boy eagerly.