Mr. Warner laughed.
"Yes, you look as if you thought so!" he said, at which Dick reddened, grinning. "Well, we meant to give you your choice, old man; there's room for you in the car, if you're hankering after society, but if you have such queer taste as to want to stay and take rations out to old Bill Summers, I've no doubt Downes and Stephens and M'Leod will be glad of your company."
"Oh truly?" Dick brightened visibly. "I'd rather stay, if you don't mind."
"I suspected as much," Mr. Warner said, turning to Mrs. Lester. "No use to offer him flesh-pots; old Agility and a job on the run have them beaten every time! All right, then, Dick; you four can get away early. Send your tucker by the cart, Downes, and you can pick it up in time to lunch at the Ten-Mile."
"I don't fancy we need take any, sir," Downes said, smiling. "Last time we were out with Dick, old Bill made us promise we'd have dinner with him next visit; and Billy Fox was in from his camp three days ago, so we sent him word we'd be there on Thursday."
"Oh, that's all right," said the squatter. "You won't miss the flesh-pots so much after all, Dick, for Bill is safe to have got a wild turkey."
Dick laughed. Damper and corned beef were to him better than any feast which had to be eaten in "best clothes," and inside four walls; it puzzled him to imagine why people should drive south in a cushioned motor-car when they could mount good horses and ride north over the saltbush plains and into the forests of whispering gums. However, it was merciful that no such sacrifice was expected of him. He had been once to the Ten-Mile, and had instantly made friends with old Bill Summers, who, having watched him helping to bring in an unruly bullock, had decided that there was something useful in "the Melbourne kid," and had shown his favour by spinning him long yarns of the bush. It would have troubled Dick to be unable to fulfil his promise to go to see him again.
Later, Mr. Warner talked to the jackeroos in the office.
"Fox reported that the scare had died away; I don't think it ever existed, except in old Bill's imagination," he said. "Still, there's never any harm in being on the safe side, and, though a revolver is a nuisance to carry, it's better to be sorry you have one than sorry you haven't. So you'll each take one; you needn't say anything about it to Dick. Not that he's at all likely to be scared, but he'd probably want to carry one himself, and then the scare would be on my side!"
"I don't think he'd do any harm with it," Macleod said. "We've been teaching him to use one."