"I daresay not—still, he's only a kid, and kids and guns are best apart, especially on a horse that may buck. Tell Bill he can come in with the cart for a couple of days if he likes; a spell at the homestead won't hurt him, and I want to talk to him about his cattle." He went on with other directions, concise and curt, and the lads nodded comprehendingly.
Dawn found them in the lagoon; an alarum clock near Macleod's bed had shrilled its clamorous summons ten minutes before, and he had dragged the others out, awakening them by the simple process of first hauling them, bed clothes and all, to the floor, and then dividing the contents of the water jug impartially between them. He fled, pausing on his way to collect Dick; and the drenched and injured Downes and Stephens pursued them, and took their revenge by ducking Macleod very thoroughly in a muddy corner near the bank, so that it took him some time to get clean. They they dived and swam, and skylarked like four healthy young porpoises, getting back to the homestead with gigantic appetites for the gigantic breakfast which Mrs. Macleay had ready for them. It was quickly disposed of, and they clattered down the verandah and out to the stable yard. As they passed Mrs. Lester's window she called Dick softly.
He went in to her room. She was in a dressing-gown, looking very little and sweet.
"I just wanted to say good morning to you, Dickie," she said. Her eyes dwelt on him restfully—tall and bronzed and eager-eyed, in his soft shirt, breeches and leggings. "Take care of yourself, old man."
"Rather," Dick answered. "You, too, mummie. Have a good day."
"Oh, yes." She kissed him, her hand lingering wistfully on his arm—she could feel the hard muscles under the shirt sleeve. "I'd rather be going with you, Dick."
"Then why ever don't you come?" Dick ejaculated.
"Because it wouldn't be manners," she said, and laughed. "Never mind, I'll hear all about your adventures to-night." She kissed him again suddenly. "Now go on; you mustn't keep the others waiting." From her window she watched him racing across to the stables. Presently they all came out, and went down the paddock helter-skelter, Agility reefing and plunging in the lead. She watched them until the trees swallowed them up.
Early as they were the ration cart had been earlier still. Drawn by two stout mules, and driven by old Harry, it had set out more than an hour before, for it had to visit a number of camps and huts, and the tracks between them were rough and sandy. And, whatever may happen, the ration cart must not fail. To the men in the lonely huts on the out stations it is the one link with civilisation, and the food it brings does not count so much in their longing for its monthly visit as its cargo of mental "tucker"—news, letters, papers, the sound of a fresh voice, the chance of a little new companionship for men who have lived together so long that there is often little between them but silence.
"I don't know how these fellows stick it," said Downes, as they rode along. "Most of 'em come in to the homestead about once in three months; between those times all they see is the ration cart once a month, and an occasional visit from the boss or some of us. You'd want to be awfully keen on your mate to be able to live with another fellow like that."