"Thanks, M'Intyre; I'm sure my father'll be delighted when I tell him the respectful titles you've given him," returned Joe, with mock sarcasm.
"He'll no dispute the title of his son's head, anyhow," flung back the Scotch lad, as, bridle in hand, he strolled on to round up his steed.
This parthian shot nettled Joe, but the answer he would have given remained unuttered, for at this moment his eldest sister appeared and beckoned to him in an emphatic manner, at the same time calling upon him to hurry. So, contenting himself with levelling Midshipman Easy's masonic sign at the retreating lad, he hurried along towards his sister.
"Father wants you to go down the river with him in the boat."
"Where's it to?"
"Down to Beacon Point. Tom Tyler's had a bad accident, and they've sent for the doctor; but he's away. He was called out to a bad case at Dingo Creek head station, and is not expected to be back till midday to-morrow. So they've asked father to go down, and you've to hurry along. Father's waiting down at the boat for you."
Mr. Blain was waiting at the boat with everything that was required for the trip. As soon as the lad was in, he pushed off, and, taking the stern oar, with Joe at the bow, father and son started on their twelve-mile pull.
In answer to the boy's question the minister gave some details of the accident, and, further, informed the lad that it was his intention to call at Mrs. Robinson's, distant about five miles from Tareela.
They had now settled down to a steady stroke, and as the sun was on its westering wheel, and the sting out of its slanting rays, the row became enjoyable. Mr. Blain was a sort of newsletter to the settlers, and in his trips up-stream and down-stream was frequently hailed and made the target of questioning from the riverbank.
Robinsons' was reached a little before sunset, where they were made abundantly welcome. Some years previously Mr. Robinson met his death by one of those accidents all too common in new settlements. Felling scrub timber is a risky performance. It so happened that in felling a stout fig tree, Robinson failed to notice some lawyer vines that, hanging from the high branches, had attached themselves to the bare limbs of an adjacent dead tree.