"Why don't you go up to Queensland?" asked the man, to Ned's hardly suppressed indignation. "The pastoralists would be glad to get a smart-looking lad like you. Good pay, all expenses paid, and a six months' agreement! I believe that's the terms. You understand me?"
"I understand you," said the English lad. "I understand you perfectly. But that's blacklegging and I'd sooner starve than blackleg. I ain't so hard up yet that I'll do either."
"Put it there, mate," cried Ned, stretching his hand out. "You're a square little chap." His heart rose again at this proof that the union spirit was spreading.
"You're a good boy," said the drunkard, slapping his shoulder. "I'm not a unionist and I'm against the unions. You understand me? I am a gentleman —poor drunken broken-down swell-and a gentleman must stick to his own Order just as you stick to your Order. I'd like to see the working classes kept in their places, but I despise a traitor, my boy. You understand me?"
"I understand you perfectly," said the lad.
"Yet you'd work for your board?" said Ned, enquiringly.
"I suppose I shouldn't," said the lad. "But one must live. I wouldn't cut a man out of a job by going under him when he was sticking up for what's right but where nobody's sticking up what's the use of one kicking. That's how I look at it. Of course, a lot don't."
"They'll get a lot to go then?"
"I think they'll get a lot. Some fellows are so low down they'll do anything and a lot more don't understand. I didn't use to understand."
"Would you go up with them for the union?" asked Ned, after a pause.