'But what is the matter with you?' George asked helplessly at last. 'Why should you behave like a lunatic because I am going away?'
'Because we are going, if you please,' corrected Terence, suddenly serious.
George stared at him. 'You don't mean that you are coming, too?'
'An' why wouldn't I? Do you think I'll allow a great baby like you to go off alone among all those murtherin' ruffians? Yes,' he concluded, with a mock salute, 'with your leave, or without your leave, I'm going with you.'
'But—but——' began George in stammering protest.
'No buts, old fellow. I am going with you,' declared Terence; 'so there is no more to be said.'
'But your prospects?' objected George.
'Oh yes, my prospects. Fine, aren't they? I shall have quite as good a chance of getting on in the world—and a better—by going with you, as I shall by jogging peacefully behind a lot of fat cattle. Besides, we are not going away for ever, I hope; and I know plenty of people who will be only too glad to get me to drive their beasts, no matter how long I may stay away. So say no more about it; the thing is settled.'
'You are a good friend, Terence,' said George, with some emotion, and the two linked arms once more and set off in the direction of Woolloomooloo, where Terence resided when in town.
* * * * * *