"Why, you've a regular chemist's shop in this corner," said Mr. Lester.
"That's the maist popular corner of the store," said Macleay. "Pills—ye've no idea how the bushman loves pills; any new brand tempts them. I think they eat them for dessert! Patent medicines of every kind—hair oil—soap; 'tis as much as my life is worth not to have everything on hand. There's a few likes books—I keep a lot of cheap novels; and they're fair terrors for a Bulletin, or any ither weekly paper. Sweets are low at the moment, but the stores wagons will be up soon and then there'll be a rush in from the out stations! If you're here then, Maister Lester, I'll tak' ye on as junior clerk and salesman!"
"If it's sweets, I'd like that!" grinned Dick.
"Do you let the blacks in here?" asked Mr. Lester.
"No; they have their own store for baccy, cheap cloth and a few other things. You see, they don't deal in money at all; they get goods as wages. And it's no good dangling temptation before their thieving eyes. Also, even with an honest and quiet tribe like this, there's risk of information leaking to tribes that are not so quiet."
"Do you ever have any trouble?"
"Hardly ever. Sometimes a raiding party comes down to the out station from the north, and we get a few cattle speared. But they've a wholesome fear of us; every stockman is armed in that part of the run, and cartridges are part of the regular ration issue. I don't let any man work alone in a lonely place, and indeed I like three to camp together if possible. But it's two years since we had any bother," finished Mr. Warner, "and I think the blacks have come to regard us as too far south to be good hunting ground."
A bell rang loudly from the house—so suddenly that Dick jumped.
"Did you think that was a raiding party?" queried his host. "Well, it used to be the signal for that; only then you wouldn't forget hearing its ring. It can make a very tolerable din in the hands of an active person. Now it's reduced to a polite tinkle, and it means lunch. Come along, or we shall have Mrs. Warner sending a search party for us; so long, Macleay!" He hurried them hospitably towards the house.