the ranche
, sir!’ ‘Mind the dogs!’ ‘Look out for whips!’ ‘You’ll lose your stock!’
Such were some of the warnings and admonitions dealt out to Mr Potts by his friends, as he heavily [201] ]loaded his buggy preparatory to starting for Barracaboo.
‘I’ll chance it!’ said he. ‘Haven’t sold a cent’s worth yet; and it’s the only place I haven’t tried. They can’t very well kill a fellow, anyhow. I’ll chance it; faint heart never won fair lady!’
‘Give you five pounds to one you don’t deal!’ cried one.
‘Give you five pounds to one you’re hunted!’ shouted ‘The Hermit.’
‘Bet you slap-up feed for the crowd to-night, and wine thrown in, that somethin’s broke afore you come back,’ said the American gentleman.
‘Done, and done, and done,’ replied Mr Potts placidly, as he carefully booked the wagers and drove off; whilst the bystanders, to a man, agreed to delay their departure for the sake of not only eating a cheap dinner, but witnessing a return which they were all convinced would be ‘as good as a play.’
But they were mistaken. Mr Potts was received at Barracaboo with open arms, no one recognising in the clean-shaven features those of the bearded, dilapidated swagman who had the other night spied out the lay of the land and the leanings of its people. The manager was absent; but the overseer, who had already by personal inspection satisfied himself of the merits of ‘Bold Dick Turpin,’ etc., was amongst the earliest purchasers.
‘Everything went like wildfire. Mr Potts could hardly hand them out fast enough. Those present [202] ]bought for others away on the run, and in a very short time there were only three volumes left.