“Git out, boss,” and the rough, bearded digger laughed childishly with pleasure; “if I sees anythin' in the Champion about me, blow me but I'm goin' back to Townsville, and I mean to spark that gal at 'Magnet Villa'—she that was a-cryin' when Miss Caroline came away.”
“Right you are, Dick. You have promised Jacky fifty pounds if he brought Miss Carolan back—and you will give it to him. But you are one of the 'Ever Victorious' crowd, and don't want money, so I won't say any more except that I'll give Mrs. Dick Scott five hundred sovereigns for a wedding present. What is her present surname, Dick?”
“Don't know, boss. Didn't ask her. But if she isn't snapped up by one of them flash banker fellows, or some other paper-collared swell, I think I'll get her. Mr. Mallard and Miss Myra said they would put in a good word for me, seein' as I hadn't no time to do any courtin' myself.”
“Dick, old son, she's yours! If you have got my sister and Mr. Mallard to speak for you, it's all right—that's a dead certainty. How is your leg?”
“Bully, boss—just bully. Say, boss!”
“Yes, Dick.”
“D'ye think we'll get them missin' horses?”
“Horses be hanged! Do you think I'm troubling about them just now?”
“Why, certingly you ought to be troublin' about 'em. Isn't the roan colt and the bay filly worth troublin' about? The best blood in the whole bloomin' country is in that bay filly o' Miss Caroline's. And Jimmy Ah San offered you ninety pound for the roan, didn't he?”
Grainger put out his hand, and grasping Scott's long beard, pretended to shake it.