"Had any supper?" asked Thompson.
"Well, no. Run out o' tucker to-day, an' reckoned I'd do till I foun' time to go to Booligal to-morrow."
While three or four of the fellows placed their eatables before Cartwright,
Thompson remarked:
"You gave me a bit of a start. When I saw you coming, it reminded me of one time I got snapped by Barefooted Bob, on Wo-Winya, while M'Gregor owned the station. For all the world such a night as this-smoky moonlight, and as good as day. I'd had a fearful perisher coming down with the last wool, and I was making for the Murray, by myself; stealing a bite of grass every night, and getting caught, altogether, five times between Hay and Barmah. Well, I knew there was rough feed in the Tin Hut Paddock; so I crawled along quietly, and loosed-out after dark, in that timber where the coolaman hole is. Then I sneaked the bullocks through the fence, and out past that bit of a swamp; and they had just settled down to feed, when I saw some one riding toward me.
"'I've got possession of some bullocks close handy here,' says he
'Do you own them?'
"'Yes,' says I; 'and, by the same token, I have possession.'
"'Right you are,' says he. 'Court job, if you like. Your name's
Stephen Thompson. Good night.'
"'Hold-on!' says I. 'On second thoughts, I haven't possession.
But I think I know your voice. Are n't you Barefooted Bob? Where's Bat?'
"'Laying for Potter's horse-teams to-night,' says Bob. 'He'll get them, right enough.'
"'Come over to the wagon, and have a drink of tea,' says I.