'Not one halfpenny,' I answered; 'I would not if I were dying. Good day.'
'You are very foolish. But you will change your mind in a few hours; so may I. Good day.'
Without more ado I left him and strode angrily back to the township. Surely no man ever had a more pig-headed, unnatural father?
That evening, a few minutes before eight o'clock, I left the hotel and strode off down the path by the creek to the place where I had arranged to meet Colin. Bitterly as I hated him, and angry as I was over the blow he had dealt me, I was not at all reconciled to the notion of fighting him. My position was already sufficiently precarious without my endeavouring to make it more so.
The moon was up, and it was a glorious night. In the little open space where I sat down to wait, it was almost as bright as day. In a gum to the back of me a mopoke was hooting dolefully, and to my right, among the bracken, the river ran sluggishly along, the moonlight touching it like silver. It was the beginning of summer, and there was still sufficient water coming down from the hills to make a decent stream.
Almost punctually at eight o'clock Colin put in an appearance, and came across the open towards me.
'I was half afraid I might keep you waiting,' he said, as he took off his coat and threw it on the ground.
'You're punctual, I think,' I answered, rising. 'But look here, McLeod, I'm not going to fight you after all. I can't do it!'
'Turning cocktail again, are you?' he said coldly. 'Do you want me to find your courage for you in the same fashion as this morning?'
'Don't push me too far,' I said, 'or God alone knows what I may not do. I'm a bad man to cross, as you may have heard.'