"Well, I am after somebody. I'm after ole M'Gregor—at least, I'll be after him as soon 's I git this reservoy off o' my mind. Daresay I'll git you to understand by-'n'-by. See: Jist when Smythe wanted this job fixed-up, he got a slant o' fourteen bullocks, sold at a gift, for debt; an' he thought that would be the cheapest way to git the work done; for he did n't want to engage any o' your sort, knowin' you'd loaf on the grass, an' most likely make a song about it, an' be the instigation of no end o' trouble watchin' the place. Well, them fourteen was put in Sling Ho's paddick for a fortnit before I come; an' I could on'y muster ten; an' me an' this mate o' mine we made a start with that lot—not knowin' which was nearsiders, nor off-siders, nor leaders, nor nothing. Nice contract. Anyway, jist before dark this evenin', I seen two o' the missin' ones in the 'joinin' paddock, so I rooted-up one o' my horses, an' fetched them in here. Then I heard a dog barkin' out this way, an' I thought I'd come across to kill time, an' then I happened to hear a lot o' laughin' where them other blokes is camped"——
"Which other blokes?" asked Saunders.
"Dan Lister an' three Vic. chaps. Be about half-a-mile out there. Dan's as sulky as a pig with these coves for foxin' him; an' they're laughin' at him like three overgrown kids. They got twelve bullocks each. Dan tells me he dropped two out of his eighteen, comin' down from Mooltunya. Says one o' the Chinks laid him on to this bit o' grass. Two other fellers I met in the plain-strangers to me—they had the very same yarn. Them heathens think I'm in charge here; an' they're workin' a point to make me nasty with the chaps on the track. An' if I was in charge, that's jist the sort o' thing would put a hump on me. Sort o' off-sider for a gang o' Chinks! My word!"
"Bin many people workin' on this paddick lately?" asked Saunders innocently.
"Well, besides your three horses, there's been an odd team now an' agen for the fortnit or three weeks I been here. Good many last night. Rallyin'-up to-night. No business o' mine. Too busy shiftin' mullock to know what's goin' on. Way o' the world, I s'pose. Anyway, Smythe's gittin' a slant to come to an understandin' with M'Gregor about me; an' if it ain't satisfactory, there'll be bad feelin' between us. I want to be kep' at my own proper work, or else sacked an' squared-up with— not shoved into a job like this the minit I show my face; with that young pup cheekin' me for callin' him 'Bert.' 'Mr. Smythe, if you please,' says he! Hope I'll live to see him with bluey on his back."
"Well-matched pair—M'Gregor an' Smythe," remarked Donovan thoughtfully.
"Wonder which of the two (individuals) is worst in the sight o' God?"
"Toss-up," replied Bob. "Same time, there's a lot o' difference in people, accordin' to the shape o' their head. There's Stewart of Kooltopa; he don't demean his self with little things; he goes in for big things, an' gits there; an' he's got the heart to make a proper use o' what money travels his road. Comes-out a Christian. Then there's Smythe: his mind's so much took-up with the tuppenny-thruppenny things that he can't see the big thing when it's starin' him in the face. Can't afford to come-out anything but a pis-ant. Then there's M'Gregor: he goes-in for big things an' little things, an' he goes-in to win, an' he wins; an' all he wins is Donal' M'Gregor's. Comes-out a bow constructor."
"Do you think he'll shift Smythe from Mondunbarra, as he did Pratt from Boolka?" I asked.
"Ain't he doin' it all the time?" replied Bob. "He's got Smythe frightened of him now, an' beginnin' to hate him like fury, besides. That's M'Gregor's lay. By-'n'-by, Smythe'll be dreamin' about him all night, an' wishin' he was game to poison him all day; an' when he feels enough haunted, M'Gregor'll make him an offer, an' he'll sell-out like a bird."
"I should be inclined to reverse the situation," remarked Stevenson.
"I should make him glad to sell-out to me."