'I'm going,' said Ned.
'About time,' answered Jim. 'I'll tell that story of yours to the little chap.'
'Don't. By gosh, Jim, don't,' said Ned, as he got to his horses' heads.
'I will. He ought to know black Sal, eh? Good-bye, Ned.'
Ned Glenn was on the box seat. He looked round at Jim, cracked the whip over his team's ears, and said,—
'I'll be back in time for the cup, my lad, and if Willie don't win on Neptune, s'help me, I'll chuck up the job.'
Jim Dennis's face cleared. The passing cloud had drifted. The gloom was dispelled at the mention of the child. What little things, what small words, what rightly-spoken words can change a man's heart.
'Bah!'
It was an emphatic expression. Jim Dennis spat on the verandah, he kicked a chair over, he swung the hammock round and went inside.
'Sal, do you know what they have said about you? Do you know what Abe Dalton says?'