* * * *
The road from the Tea-tree had been fair and level, and so it continued to the Hanson Well—a total of 33 miles.
At the Hanson a blackfellow was bending over and drinking from the troughs. He was somewhat startled on turning and seeing me dismount; but, though he had with him a few implements of the chase and an iguana, he did not look particularly wild.
My waterbag was empty. Leaning the bicycle against something, I stepped over towards the well and began—"Here, 'Hanson,' lend a hand to——"
But he had very civilly started walking after me to lend the hand before I had asked it of him.
The bucket was soon landed, and not another word was spoken until I had drunk deeply of the sparkling liquor. Then I found that the naked one was capable of "yabbering" fairly well.
"'Nother white pfella walk longa track?" he said, inquisitively.
"No more—which way blackpfella sit down?"
"By and bye more blackfellow come."