‘Well, sir,’ said Peter, ‘afore you goes I shouldn’t mind takin’ a spell down country myself, if you haven’t no objection.’
His employer turned sharply round from the horse-yard rail, and looked at the young fellow.
Twenty-five, born on the station, an orphan, fairly steady, very useful, the best rough-rider in the district, [21] ]never more than fifty miles away from home in his life. Such was the record of Peter Barlow, who chewed a straw, and smiled as he noticed his master’s surprise.
‘Why, what’s bitten you, my lad,’ said the latter, ‘that you want to get away amongst the spielers and forties of the big smoke? Isn’t Combington large enough for a spree?’
‘Well, sir,’ replied Peter, rather sheepishly, ‘you see, they’re always a-poking borack an’ a-chiackin’ o’ me over in the hut because I’ve never seed nothin’. There’s chaps there as has been everywheres, an’ can talk nineteen to the dozen o’ the things they’ve gone through, an’ me a-settin’ listenin’ like a stuffed dummy.’
‘I see, Peter,’ said Mr Forrest, laughing, ‘you want to travel. “Home-keeping youths have ever homely wits,” eh, Peter? Believe me, my lad, for all that, you’re better off as you are, notwithstanding the gas of those other fellows. However, you may take a month if you like. I think, though, that you’ll be glad to get back in the half of it. But how would it do for you to come down with us? I shall be staying in town for a week or so, and could often see you, and that you didn’t get into any mischief.’
But Peter shook his head sagely, saying,—
‘You see, sir, I’d like to git back in about a fortnight or so. There’s that lot o’ calves in the heifer paddock to be weaned, an’ that last lot o’ foals ’ll want brandin’, an’—’
‘All right, Peter, my boy,’ interrupted the squatter, laughing again. ‘Put money in thy purse, go forth and [22] ]see the world. Only, when you’re tired, don’t forget the track back to the old station.’
So, after a day or two, Peter rode 150 miles to the railway terminus, and, leaving his horse in a paddock, embarked on a very strange adventure, and one that will be handed down with ever-increasing embroidery to each generation of Barlows, until, in time, the narrative overshadows that of Munchausen. It would be tedious to attempt to depict Peter’s astonishment at the first sight of steam. As a matter of fact, he was not a bit surprised—or, if he was, he didn’t show it. It takes more than the first sight of an express train to upset the marvellous stoicism, or adaptability—which is it?—of the Native-Born. It takes all that subsequently befel