My companion was foot-sore, so I went slowly; he, however, shambled along bravely when his feet got warm. He was a talkative, lively man, and chattered continually.
"You've got a nice place up at the Durnongs, sir," said he; "I stayed in your huts one night. It's the comfortablest bachelor station on this side. You've got a smart few sheep, I expect?"
"Twenty-five thousand. Do you know these parts well?"
"I knew that country of yours long before any of it was took up."
"You've been a long while in the country, then?"
"I was sent out when I was eighteen; spared, as the old judge said, on account of my youth: that's eleven years ago."
"Spared, eh? It was something serious, then?"
"Trifling enough: only for having a rope in my hand."
"They wouldn't lag a man for that," said I.
"Ay, but," he replied, "there was a horse at the end of the rope. I was brought up in a training stable, and somehow there's something in the smell of a stable is sure to send a man wrong if he don't take care. I got betting and drinking, too, as young chaps will, and lost my place, and got from bad to worse till I shook a nag, and got bowled out and lagged. That's about my history, sir; will you give me a job, now?" and he looked up, laughing.