“Thank you, Mr Vale. And I'm glad to meet you, and sell you my cattle. Every one that I have heard speak of you says that you will never try to 'skin' a digger over the price of his liquor and 'tucker.'”
Vale was pleased. For a bush publican and store-keeper he had an unusual reputation for honesty—and well deserved it, for all his roughness and lurid language when aroused to wrath. He asked Gerrard to stay for the night.
“No, I cannot. I must get back to the cattle to-night, and do my watch. But I think I shall spell here at Hansen's for a day or two, have a look at the field, and see if I can buy a share in one of the claims. As I'm getting my money out of the diggings I ought to put something back, even if I strike a rank duffer.”
“Ah, you're one of the right sort of men, Mr Gerrard. I daresay I can put you on to something that won't displease you in the end. But I'm sorry you can't camp here to-night.”
“No, I must not. It would not be fair to my men to leave them with a mob of cattle out in the open all night in such thunder-stormy weather. If they broke away they would clear off into the ranges.”
Then he added that whilst two of his black stockmen were returning to Ocho Rios after they had had a spell at “Hansen's,” he was striking across country to the coast—seventy miles distant—to the mouth of the Coen River.
“You see, Mr Vale, my luck is coming in, 'hand over fist,' as the sailors say. I'm going to be married at Ocho Rios next month by the Gold Commissioner, and there is a pearling lugger bringing me a lot of stores round from Somerset, and I have arranged to meet her at the Coen on the 22nd, and sail round in her. I'm taking one black boy with me, who will take my horse back with him to the station, and I'll get the benefit of a short sea-trip of a few days, or perhaps a week.”
Vale opened another bottle of beer—more valued at Hansen's than even whisky at a sovereign a bottle.
“Here's to your very good fortune and happiness, Mr Gerrard! Will you mind my mentioning it to the boys here to-night? You see, I arranged to give a sort of a shivoo as soon as the cattle got here, and I had killed and dressed a couple of beasts.”
Gerrard laughed. “I don't mind. And I'll come to the shivoo myself, and eat some of my own beef. Now, I must be getting back to the cattle.”