Stanesby looked round discontentedly. The untidy, uninviting remains of their midday meal were still on the table, pushed aside to make room for the papers they had been reading; it gave the place a dishevelled, comfortless air, which made its dull blank-ness ten times worse.
Turner noticed it, but he did not feel on sufficiently good terms to rail at his friend’s hutkeeper, as he would have done in the morning. He only shrugged his shoulders meaningly when Stanesby called out,
“Boy! I say, Jimmy, where’s the girl?”
Jimmy turned lazily and showed his white teeth.
“Sit down along a creek, you bet.”
“Go and fetch her.”
Jimmy showed his white teeth again, and grinned largely, but he did not stir.
“My word! Baal{1} this blackfellow go.”
“Much as his life is worth, I guess,” said
1 Means “not, no.”